


Adventures in Higher Learning

by Iocane



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, Other tags may be added, Spanking, Unsafe Sex, hank anderson: den mother, mentions of child death, one-night stand, teacher/student relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-05-16 18:23:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19323613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iocane/pseuds/Iocane
Summary: Criminology Professor Connor Mann begins another year teaching at Jericho University in a week.  He's gone far afield for a night of rough sex, to avoid running into a possible future student.Hank Anderson drank himself out of a job with the police force a few years ago.  Now (mostly) sober, he's going back to school.  He just wants one night of sex, or rejection, before he spends his days surrounded by pretty things half his age.After they each get what they want, they part ways.  Only to meet up again on campus, on opposite sides of the teacher's desk.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Hank/Connor Big Bang 2019 and I was paired with the _wonderful_ [anifanatical](https://linktr.ee/anifanatical), two did two amazing art pieces for this!

Connor could hear the pounding music even before he got out of the car, and it was exactly what he'd hoped.  Classes started up in a week, and he desperately needed to blow off steam. Preferably somewhere he wasn't apt to run into a potential student, which is why he'd driven a solid hour to find probably the only gay heavy metal bar in the state.

The music itself wasn't what drew him here, though he liked it well enough.  But this sort of crowd had a certain roughness that he craved. He would not be handled like fine china.  If he was lucky, he'd have a few bruises.

Connor knew he wasn't bad looking - tall, slender, dark hair and eyes, and skin-tight jeans.   He liked to think he was getting noticed as he slithered through the club, making his way to the bar.  One or two drinks at most, he had every intention of dancing or fucking enough to burn away that much before he had to drive again.

Connor was leaning on the bar, just taking his first swallow when he felt a wonderfully firm body pressed against his side. "'Scuse me, kid," a gruff voice close to his ear as the owner tried to signal for the bartender.

Mingled annoyance and arousal shot through Connor.  He turned, facing the impressively sized man as he ordered a whiskey.  "I'm not a kid," he said. "I  _ teach _ kids." 

The man let out a bark of laughter at that and smiled at Connor, which did pleasant things to his insides.  "At my age, anyone under thirty is a kid," the man said, turning to lean against the bar, facing Connor. He liked the look of him even more.  Greying beard framing a luscious mouth, longish hair hanging below his ears, equally grey. Piercing blue eyes the highlight of a rugged face.

"Still not a kid," Connor said, "Turned thirty-three last week." With that, Connor took a slow sip of beer, fitting his lips around the top of the bottle before tipping it up.  The gesture did not go unnoticed.

"Well, belated happy birthday." The man lifted his glass before taking a sip.  "Get anything good?"

"Not yet." Connor let himself lean closer, his own slender body against the other man's delicious bulk. "But there's still time."

The man tipped his drink back, swallowing it in a gulp before setting the glass back on the bar.  "I'm too old to be fucking pretty little twinks in the men's room," he said as his hand slid to the back of Connor's neck.  

That touch, warm, callused skin against his neck, intimate and possessive had Connor a little weak in the knees.  "I have a car," he offered, struggling to make words happen. He'd gone way too long if one touch had him this addled.

"Too old to fuck in the back of a car, too." Still, those kissable lips were quirked into a smile and Connor wondered if his beard would be soft or scratchy.

"I meant, there's a hotel-" It didn't look like a very  _ good _ hotel but they weren't looking to stay more than a few hours. "We could get a room."

"Now that's a plan I can get behind. I know the place you mean.  Meet there in twenty? Bit too far to leave my bike."

Connor bit his lip.  It was a walk he could make easily but he didn't want to make it at this hour.  If the guy had a bike, though ... 

A finger gently tapped Connor's right temple.  "I can practically hear you thinking, and I don't have a spare helmet with me." The man was chuckling as he spoke and Connor blushed.

"Pity." Connor didn't even try to pretend he hadn't been thinking exactly that.  "Twenty minutes. Yes," he confirmed.

"See you there," the man said before pushing off the bar and sliding into the crowd.

Connor made himself finish at least half his beer.  Not because he needed the liquid courage, and not to delay his departure, but he was not going to pay this much for a beer and leave it after two swallows.  It also drew out the anticipation, knowing big and burly was already there. If Connor saw him on his bike he'd probably combust, anyway.

Ten minutes after they parted ways, Connor headed towards the hotel, pulling into the parking lot and finding a space next to a large man on a motorcycle, helmet dangling from the handlebar.   "Did you get the room already?" He asked, rolling down his window.

"They're full up.  Says the fuckin' sign is broken.  You live nearby?"

"No." Connor fished out his phone, hoping to find another place nearby fast enough before this guy changed his mind.

"Figures.  My place is about ten minutes.  You still wanna do this?"

"I absolutely still want to do this." Connor tucked his phone away, elated that he hadn't changed his mind.

"You sure? Hell of a ride for a one night stand."

Connor could stay in the car, argue through the open window, and maybe get what he was after, or maybe not.  He, more than most, knew the dangers of a situation like this. Markus would give him so much hell, but classes started in one week and he needed this.  Needed someone to take him out of his head and remind him he wasn't just a professor.

Unclipping his seatbelt, Connor climbed out of his car and approached the guy.  "I've already driven an hour," he said. He reached for that leather jacket, gripping it firmly.  "I can wait another ten minutes if you promise I'll still be feeling it in two days." Connor yanked him closer and captured those soft lips, pleased to learn the beard was soft as well.

Apparently stunned, it took the guy a moment to catch up to Connor.  When he did, it was with a growl and a strong hand to the back of his neck.  The kiss shifted from firm and one-sided to mutually passionate.

One arm at his neck, the other winding around his back and Connor mewled as he was pulled tight against that bulk.  He was about ready to straddle the bike when the kiss ended and his feet touched the ground again. Suddenly he wasn't sure he  _ could  _ wait another ten minutes.

The guy looked almost as needy as Connor felt, dark blue eyes raking over Connor's flushed face.  A slow lick across his lips, which Connor echoed, remembering the intense kiss. "An hour, huh? No gay bars near you?" The man's voice was rougher than before, and Connor cursed the dim light.  He glanced but couldn't tell just how affected he'd been by the kiss.

"Plenty.  Decided to come here though." He wasn't about to go into why.  "You gonna make it worth my while?" he challenged, shivering when those eyes sparked.

"Oh yeah.  If you're lucky, you'll get a birthday spanking, too."  With that, he unhooked his helmet and began to slide it on.

Taking his cue, Connor got back into his car, buckled up and waited to be guided to what promised to be the fuck of his life.

The drive itself was uneventful, and Connor was keenly aware of his need simmering low in his belly.  Finally, the motorcycle pulled into a driveway, nudging off to the side to leave room for Connor's car.

He climbed out, following the guy into his house only to be accosted by something large and fuzzy pressed to his belly. 

"SUMO!" The guy admonished even as Connor slid to one knee.

"He's fine, I like dogs," he smiled, giving the large head a vigorous scratching behind his ears.

"Probably should have warned you, he can be intimidating."

"No, he's a teddy bear!" Connor gave him one last scritch before standing, seeing his host had removed his jacket and followed suit. 

The dog padded off and the man came closer, backing Connor against the door.  "I'm not," he breathed just before capturing Connor's mouth.

Connor moaned, first gripping his sides, enjoying the softness against his hands.  Then they wound around him, gripping at his back as he began to get dizzy. Finally he could breath, gasping for a moment when the kiss ended.  "I know your dog's name but not yours." It wasn't what he'd intended to say but in his defence, he was a little kiss-drunk.

The guy laughed, breath warm against Connor's cheek.  "Call me Hank," he rumbled. "And what's the birthday boy's name?"

"Connor.  Did you mean it about the spanking?" One hand was toying with Hank's hair, enjoying it against his skin as he slid his fingers through.

"Only if you want me to."  The gruff voice was soft and something inside Connor melted a little.

"Oh, I want," Connor murmured.  His hands slid up Hank's chest and began to unbutton his colorful shirt.  "Don't even have to stop at thirty three," he'd come out to get hurt, at least a little, and it looked like he'd get that in spades.

"You want me to stop, just say red, alright?"

"Got it, I know the system," he assured Hank, then leaned in to kiss him again.

After a few more kisses, Hank drew away, leading Connor through the living room and down the hall to his bedroom, closing the door behind them.  Then he pulled Connor close again, finally starting to tug at his clothes.

It wasn't long before Connor was naked, on his knees in front of an equally naked Hank, nuzzling his cock.  Long and broad just like the rest of him, Connor licked his way along the underside, then drew the head into his mouth, sucking gently.

"Fuck, Con, you look fuckin' pretty like that." Hank slid a hand through Connor's short hair, cupping the back of his head.

Smiling around the flesh in his mouth, Connor started to take him in deeper, bobbing and humming while his fingers played with Hank's weighty balls.  He savored the groans and the way he clenched at Connor's head. Reaching the limit of what he could take, Connor began to bob, cheeks hollowing when he drew back and gazed up Hank's luscious body.

Blue eyes met brown as Connor sank down slowly again, swallowing when Hank butted against the back of his throat.  Part of him wanted Hank to just grab his head and make him take it all, but he knew his limits. 

"Con, Con, gotta stop." Hank gave Connor's hair a light tug with his words.

Drawing back slowly, Connor pulled off with a gentle pop, lickig his lips.  Then his tongue darted out, meeting Hank's gaze as his tongue flicked against the oozing tip.  "What if I don't want to?"

"You don't stop," Hank's thumb brushed Connor's bottom lip before pressing into his mouth.  "Then I come on your pretty face and go to sleep. Birthday boy doesn't get his spanking, doesn't get fucked into next week."

Connor gave Hank's thumb a firm suck, then a little nip before he stood, body rubbing against Hank's all the way.  "Guess I'm stopping, then," he said, then kissed Hank, enjoying the older man's softness as he pressed close.

Hank's palms skimmed over Connor's back, then to his ass.  He gripped firmly and Connor let out a low whine. Then Hank let go and a sharp smack landed on his ass.  "One," Hank rumbled.

Connor trembled, already aching and wiggling back, wanting another smack.  "We should probably move to the bed unless you want me falling over."

Hank chuckled darkly and gave Connor a little nudge.  He soon found himself draped over Hank's lap, one strong hand on the small of his back.  The other rubbed against his cheeks, kneading the firm mounds. One finger dipped between his cheeks teasing his ass and making him whimper.  "Can't wait to split you wide open." Hank's voice was low and rough, then his hand came down sharply on Connor's ass without warning. "Two."

"Can't wait either," Connor rocked his hips back, pushing his ass up, whining at the third blow. "You can go harder if you want," he urged.

"Demanding thing, aren't you?" Hank murmured, and his next smack was considerably more powerful, landing on the fleshiest part of Connor's ass.

From there, the spanking only got more intense and Connor began crying around fifteen strokes.  Hank noticed, and once assured he was fine to continue, he delivered the next six in a set of three on each cheek, one right after the other, leaving Connor wailing.

"Thirty-two," Hank landed a smack to Connor's ass that shook his frame.  "Thirty three!" The same blow on his other cheek. Connor was sobbing and it felt so fucking good.  His ass was a cheery red, no doubt, and his whole body glowed with it.

Connor's movements were sluggish as he tried to roll over, needing a little grounding before they continued.  Thankfully Hank knew what to do and eased him over before manhandling him into sitting up. Connor was adjusted so his thighs took most of his weight while sitting on Hank's legs.  A strong arm around his waist made sure he didn't fall backwards. "That was good," he murmured, nuzzling into Hank's neck.

"Haven't enjoyed dishing out a spanking like that in a while, you took it very well, Connor," he murmured.  The arm holding him stayed put, his other hand moving over Connor's side and legs, caressing his cheek, double, triple checking that he was alright and helping him regain his footing after the intensity of his spanking.  "You let me know when you're ready for more."

Connor didn't pass out, wasn't sleepy even, but he let himself tuck against Hank and just drift.  In a few hours he'd be feeling it, his ass would be sore and probably bruised, but right now it just felt amazing.  And Hank, just holding him, whispering sweet nothings at him while Connor got himself back to rights. Shame this was gonna be a one night thing.  That thought sobered him up and he gave Hank's warm neck one final nuzzle before lifting his head. "Ready for more," he murmured, sitting up to kiss him softly, fingers sliding through his beard.

"Fuck you look gorgeous like this," Hank purred once he had Connor repositioned.  He was draped over a pile of pillows under his hips. Ass pushed up in the air legs splayed wide, back arched just so.  

"Thank you." Connor gave a little wiggle, rutting his erection against the pillows slightly, then keened as Hank's hands slid up his thighs to his ass.

Strong hands kneaded Connor's cheeks before parting them, exposing the tight pucker.  Having snagged the bottle earlier, Hank thumbed open the lube and drizzled some onto Connor's crack.  One hand held his cheeks apart, the other smeared slick over his ass and began to stretch him. "Gonna look so good on my cock, Connor." Hank spoke as he opened him, offering up praise and assurances.

Connor was eating it up, the kind words in that rough voice, sprinkled with curses, spread over him like a blanket.  His ass throbbed, both from the spanking and from Hank's thick fingers working him open. This wasn't the almost violent quickie he'd driven an hour to find.  This was better, and he knew slinking away in the night would be a lot harder than he expected. Hank was doing everything right, as if he had a book on How To Fuck Connor Mann.

At some point during Connor's musings, Hank had worked three fingers into him and they pushed in deep, finding his prostate, making Connor jump with surprise.  "Hank," he whined. He didn't want fingers. He wanted that thick, meaty cock. 

Hank chuckled, low and throaty.  "Needy thing." He withdrew his fingers, giving Connor's cheeks another squeeze before he tugged the pillows out from under him.  Connor drew his knees up, offering his ass, trying to give an enticing wiggle.

It earned him a gentle slap to his already abused cheeks and he mewled, ass clenching, aching for some thing to fill it.  "Hank, please," he whined.

Hank soon crowded behind Connor, wide, slick tip of his cock pushing carefully into Connor's hole.  He eased in, murmuring all the while about how well Connor was doing and how fucking good he looked.

Finally Hank's hips rested against Connor's and he bent down, nuzzling his neck.  "Feel so fucking good around me, Con," he groaned, holding still so Connor could adjust.

"Feel good in me." Connor turned, nuzzling at what he could reach, one hand sliding up into Hank's hair.

He started slowly, Hank's bulk, heavy and broad, pushing Connor into the mattress as he rocked.  His hairy thighs rubbed against Connor's beaten ass and had him hissing and moaning in turn, wiggling under him.  Or trying to, Hank didn't give him much room to even do that. Connor loved it.

It didn't take long for Hank to step things up.  He sat up, knees pushing Connor's thighs wider apart as he thrust properly.

Connor whined, clawing at the bed as Hank split him open, seeming to get even deeper from this angle.  When Hank moved again it was to sweep his hands along Connor's arms and pin his wrists "Settle down, sweetheart," he growled and began to thrust even more powerfully.

Moaning, Connor did his best but Hank just felt too fucking good.  He bucked back, wriggled and squirmed, pulling his legs wider, drooling into the pillow as Hank pounded him mercilessly.

Hank stretching him, pinning him, the delicious soreness of his ass, and the relentless pace had Connor coming hard before he could fully process what was about to happen.  He barely had time to gurgle an attempt at a warning before he spasmed, clamping down on Hank's cock as he shook.

Those lovely, lovely hands slid up his arms to his neck and Hank shifted and it took Connor's bliss-fogged mind a moment to realize he was withdrawing.  "Don't," He whined, one arm flopping uselessly as he tried to reach back. "Stay. Fin-finish," he could tell Hank hadn't come yet.

"You sure, Con?" Hank asked, those glorious fucking hands rubbing up and down his back, cock pulsing inside him.

The words came slowly, one at a time.  "Yes. Green. Please. Keep going. Use me," he whined, managing to push back and clench deliberately.

"How're you so fucking perfect, Con?" Hank asked and braced his arms on either side of Connor as he resumed his relentless pace.

Connor could only whine, his body going boneless under Hank's assault, loving this part.  Just being a fucked out hole for his partner. Maybe he could stay the night, get used some more.  Connor's whole body  _ throbbed  _ and he revelled in Hank's motions, not holding back.  He was drilling Connor just as deep and thoroughly as he had  before Connor came. Fuck, if he kept at it, Connor was gonna get hard again and that thought had him moaning.

When Hank's pace began to stutter, Connor forced his head up, managing to push back.  "Come in-" he whined, knowing how need he sounded. "Come in me, please," his biggest fear at the moment was Hank withdrawing, spilling over his back.  After being so deeply stretched, he wanted to be filled, too.

Hank was apparently beyond words but he obeyed, thrusting a dozen more times before he came with a low groan, hands on Connor's shoulders as he flooded into him.  Connor shuddered at the heat inside him.

Hank slid free and flopped onto his back with a deeply satisfied groan, arms tucked up under his head.  Connor gave it about half a second of thought before continuing to follow his instincts, they hadn't led him wrong yet tonight.  He scooted closer, nuzzling his face into Hank's armpit, scent marking himself before he tucked into his side. One arm around Hank's belly, one leg drawn up and tossed over his thighs.

His instincts proved correct when one arm came down, wrapping easily around Connor's shoulders. "Worth the extra ten minutes?" Hank asked, voice low and rumbly.

"Worth the whole hour before that, too," Connor murmured, giving his belly a squeeze, glad that Hank didn't seem inclined to kick him out at least before the afterglow was over.

"Why an hour?" Hank's hand rubbed absently at Connor's arm.

"Don't wanna run into anyone local.  My job is such that I probably shouldn't be caught cruising, especially not for what I'm looking for."

"Fair enough," Hank nodded, then yawned.  "You can stay but I'm falling asleep." Hank shifted only enough to grab the covers from the floor, flipping them up onto the bed.

Connor just snuggled closer, glad he wasn't being kicked out, or even nudged away.  Connor got very, very cuddly after sex, and it was generally at odds with the kind of guy he usually had sex with.  It was one reason he didn't seek this out more than once or twice a year. The emotional fallout was too much, any more often than that.  This, however, this was just right. Connor nuzzled Hank's shoulder before settling down, smiling when the other man began to snore.

Connor wasn't sure how long he slept, just that he whined when the warmsoftcozy thing under him left.  He shimmied forward, occupying the warm spot it had left and fell asleep again.

Next time he woke, light was filtering through an unfamiliar window as he blinked sleepily.  Rolling over to avoid it, he met the gaze of the bed's other occupant and recalled the night before.  Pressing closer to the warm body, he could feel the state Hank was in. When strong arms wrapped around him, Connor reached down, giving Hank's cock a gentle squeeze.  "Want me to help with this?" he offered.

"Not gonna say no, pretty boy." Hank's morning voice was deep enough to curl Connor's toes and if he hadn't already been hard that would have done the job.  

Nudging his shoulder, Connor pushed Hank onto his back and climbed to straddle him.  He'd seen his ink last night but the damnably bright morning light gave him a good look and he ran his hands over the faded tattoos.  "I like these," he purred, fingers tracing hover them. "And this," his hands slid down, squeezing Hank's belly as he gave a wiggle.

Hank just chuckled.  "I like this, myself," he said and slid his hands up, giving Connor's ass a squeeze.  The touch was almost too painful, but Hank didn't linger, hands moving up to Connor's waist.  "Gonna ride me, Con?" he asked.

Connor leaned down, letting himself drape over Hank's more massive body and nuzzled his beard.  "That's the plan." He kissed Hank's neck as he reached for the lube. Hank took it from him, nuzzling Connor in return as he reached down and began to slick him again.  "You did all the work last night, I should be doing it all now." For all his teasing, Connor wasn't about to argue having those fingers in him again. God, walking away was going to be difficult.  Walking  _ in general _ was going to be difficult.

"Skinny fingers like yours, you'd need your whole hand to get ready for me." Hank sounded just a little smug.

Connor chuckled and nipped at his chin.  "I like your fingers better anyway," he gasped, rutting briefly against Hank's belly as said fingers stretched him open more quickly than the night before.

Soon, open and slick, Connor lowered himself around Hank's cock, moaning as he was filled again.  This time, it was slower, almost languid. They'd burnt through the urgency last night, this was just about the pleasure.  His hands roamed over Hank's arms, chest and belly, loving the soft give, and the firm muscle just under it.

Rough skinned hands slid over Connor's body and Hank touched him everywhere, up his sides, teasing his nipples, skimming over his ass but not squeezing again.  He was able to read Connor so well, knowing just where and how and how not to touch him.

When Connor reached to stroke himself, Hank pushed his hand away and took over as he began to rock up into him at last.  Connor leaned forward, his hands on Hank's shoulders as he sped up. Their eyes met and locked and a moment later they came, together this time.  Connor painted Hank's hand and belly, Hank filling Connor's well used ass.

Feeling like he was melting, Connor laid down over Hank again, nuzzling his neck.  A moment later, Hank softened enough to flop out of him and Connor shivered at how open he was, feeling come oozing from him.  God he was a mess.

Hank's arms wrapped around him and their lips brushed lightly, closed at first, then the desire to kiss overcame their morning breath.  Connor shivered at the slow, intimate kisses. Somehow, sweet morning kisses felt more intimate than having Hank come inside him, twice.

They were interrupted by a scratching at the door, and Connor was confused until he remembered Hank had a dog.  He gave Hank one final kiss before sliding off him. "Bathroom?" he asked as Hank stood, pulling on his jeans from the night before.

"Just across the hall."

Connor gathered his clothes while Hank took Sumo outside.  When he emerged from the bathroom, Connor was dressed in yesterday's clothes, but smelling of Hank's soap and shampoo.  He followed the scent of coffee down the hall. Once again, allowing instincts to take reign, he sidled up behind Hank. Nuzzling the large eagle tattoo on his shoulder, Connor wrapped his arms around Hank's belly.  He had to leave soon, for his own emotional health if nothing else, but he was going to enjoy this while it lasted.

"Cuddly thing, aren't you?" Any worry that said cuddling wasn't welcome was allayed by a rough hand rubbing over Connor's forearms, just petting him instead of trying to dislodge him.

"Yep.  Don't often get to be, though.  After a night like this I usually have to cuddle up to a friend of mine.  He doesn't mind but he has a boyfriend now, so this is extra welcome."

"You mentioned your job would give you shit for cruising, I take it you're not out at work?"

"You're a cop, aren't you?" Connor asked with a chuckle.  Aside from the questions, Connor remembered a badge looking tattoo on his chest.

The pause that followed was long and weighty, and Connor knew he'd tread on dangerous ground.  "Used to be."

Connor almost mentioned that he taught criminology but decided to stay away from the whole crime subject.  "Now you spend your days picking up twinks and fucking them silly?" He hoped the teasing question got things into a better place.

Hank actually laughed.  It was short but genuine  "That happens once in a blue moon."

"I'll count myself extra lucky, then." Connor pressed a kiss to Hank's eagle again before reluctantly moving away as Hank poured two mugs of coffee.  Connor took a sip just as it was and leaned against the counter before thinking better of it. "Better than what I get at work."

"Shitty break room?" Hank did lean against the counter and Conor just enjoyed the sight of him while he could.

"Sort of? I usually have two choices for coffee once I get to work.  A little cafe on the way in, but it's usually too crowded when I'm getting there, or a small kitchenette.  The problem isn't a lack of quality coffee, the problem is everyone has a different idea of what makes a good cup, and good flavors and no one likes anyone elses coffee so there's this constant passive aggressive coffee war going on between the french vanilla people, the carmel people, and the jamaican blue mountain people.  I just want a cup of plain black coffee," he said with a slightly whining laugh, shaking his head.

"I'll fuckin' drink to that.  You hungry?"

Connor thought about it, and he was a little peckish, but he feared if he stayed any longer, it would get harder and harder to leave, and he had to start getting ready for his classes.  "I, uhm, I should probably go, actually." He couldn't meet Hank's gaze as he set his mug aside.

"At least take the coffee," Hank said, already turning and opening a cabinet overhead, pulling down a travel mug.

"I won't have any way of getting it back to you."

"I've got too many of them anyway." Hank's voice was quiet as he gave the mug a quick rinse.

Connor tried not to be hurt when he didn't offer up his address or even a phone number.  Not that Connor would have accepted it, probably, but still. "Thank you."

Hank filled the cup fresh from the pot and snapped the lid in place.  "Here you go."

When he handed it to Connor he could see it was a battered green mug with a scratched up St. Bernard painted on it.  "Aw, I get a Sumo mug," he said with a smile and was glad to see Hank matched it.

"Can I get one more thing before I go?" Connor asked, stepping closer.  When Hank didn't argue, he closed the distance and pushed up onto his tiptoes to kiss Hank slowly.

Hank's arms wrapped around Connor's waist and pulled him close as the kiss lingered.  When it ended, he nuzzled Connor briefly. "Should get going before I decide to keep you."

Connor knew if he said anything else, it would be an offer to stay so he just nodded.  Taking his mug, he slinked out to his car, letting his hand trail over the sun-warmed leather of Hank's motorcycle seat.  Driving away, he felt like he was turning his back on something that could be really, really great.


	2. Chapter 2

"Yeah, yeah, fuck, I'm up," Hank grumbled as his dog kept nosing at him.  Still half asleep, he climbed out of bed and went to let Sumo out. While Sumo did his business, he made himself a cup of coffee, glad he'd finally figured out the automatic bullshit.  He was going to need it if he planned to take his classes seriously.

Sipping the too-hot brew, he eyed the satchel on his table, leather still shiny with newness.  It was stuffed with books, notebooks, everything he needed for school. Classes. Whatever. He had taken a few classes over the years, mostly in the run up to his Lieutenant's exam.  But he hadn't been a student full time for thirty years. Now he would get to choose which discount to try for - student, or senior citizen. He wasn't old enough for the latter at only 53, but fuck if he didn't feel it some days.

"Too old for this shit, Sumo," he called companionably to his dog when he let him in.  Finally he couldn't drag his feet anymore. Dressed, hair pulled back so he didn't look like a scraggly creep, car keys in his pocket, he was ready to go.  "You be a good boy for Alice and Kara?" he asked his shaggy headed best friend. When he knelt by the door, he heard a smiling voice 'he's a teddy bear!' and sighed.  He thought about Connor way too fucking much. One night stand, it was what they'd both wanted. 

He'd considered taking his bike, but the ride there and back to visit campus two weeks ago had put the kibosh on that idea.  If he tried doing that every day he'd wind up walking as gingerly as Connor had when he'd left. 

Fuck.  

Half the reason he'd been looking for a good fuck that night had been to get it out of his system.  He was about to be surrounded by pretty things half his age and he was only human. Lot of his parts were breaking down as he got older, his libido was not one of them.  So he'd gone out, wanting to find some pretty young thing to pound into a cheap hotel mattress. Or to be rejected out of hand by a whole night's worth of pretty things, which would have been pretty effective as far as keeping his dick under control in class.

Instead he had found a walking goddamn wet dream.  Pretty, check. Young but not  _ young _ , check.  Twink, double check.  Spanking, good hard fuck, check and fucking check.  Cuddly bastard, too. Not that Hank minded. He'd also felt uncomfortably possessive when he'd realized Connor had used his soap in the shower.  

As he drove, he went over his schedule again in his mind.  Monday - Beginner psych with Professor Stern. After that, Criminology 1 with Professor Mann.  English 101 with Doctor Mann. He wondered if they were married, though the subjects didn't seem very compatible.  Tuesday started with History with Professor Reed. Or rather, most Tuesdays would start with History - tomorrow the professor had already informed them there would be no class.  After history was Math with Dr. Kamski (C), and then top the day off with Art Theory with Professor Manfred.

Three classes a day, a fairly packed schedule, but he had nothing else to do with his time, and the classes and the accompanying homework would help keep him sober.  Or drive him to drink. He put that thought out of his head and tried to run down what he'd had to read before psych.

Thankfully he brought his own coffee and avoided what looked like a long line out of the tiny cafe near campus.  Instead he found some student parking, grimacing at the long walk to the main building where his first two classes were.

When Hank stepped into the first classroom, the dozen or so kids there shifted from relaxed and chatty to quiet and attentive and for a second he thought it was a dream and he'd showed up in his old uniform or some shit.  Then he realized, grey beard, ponytail, leather satchel, blue jeans and a bright pink shirt. The thought he was the fucking  _ teacher _ .

A kid who came in behind him clinched it with a muttered "'Scuse me Professor."  

"I'm not Professor Stern, or professor anything.  I'm-" He almost said 'one of you guys' but he sure as hell wasn't that, either.  "I'm just a student," he said, finally stepping further into the classroom and taking a seat near the door.  From his bag he withdrew the text, and a small leatherbound notebook identical to the one he'd used as a cop until he drank himself out of a job.  

More students began filing in and with every young face and peach fuzz beard Hank felt himself get a little older.  Jesus, they were  _ children _ .  Actual fucking children.  He saw at least one pikachu backpack.

Finally the actual professor came in, stepping behind the desk at the front of the classroom and introducing herself as such.  She looked like a formidable woman, tiny thing, steel grey hair in countless little braids, pulled up, white slacks and a flowing top. 

Attendance was taken and thankfully she got right down to business.  Class passed fairly quickly, and Hank was pleased that at least a few of his classmates knew their asshole from their elbow as far as this class went.

After psych was Criminology, which would be interesting.  He was curious how the class would compare to thirty years of experience.  In this case, any chance of being mistaken for the professor was eliminated by the fact that the professor was already there.  He was scrawling something on the board, his back to the classroom. Again, Hank grabbed a seat near the front, in the corner, knowing his eyes weren't as sharp as they had once been.  Not to the point of needing glasses, thanks, but he would avoid strain when he could.

Once he had his book and notepad out, he let his eye wander over the sparse desk.  An open briefcase, a large folder with what looked like an attendance sheet on top.  A travel mug with a Saint Bernard, a set of keys. 

His eyes snapped back to the mug, peering at it.  It looked similar to one he had until a week ago. Same dark green background, the Saint Bernard looked similar.  As Hank studied it, a sinking feeling curled around his gut and his chest tightened. No. No, no no. His eye caught on a distinctive scratch, a sizable gouge, really, near the bottom of the mug.  No way did two mugs have that mark.

The bottom dropped out of his stomach when Professor Mann turned around, addressing the class.   Hank managed to get himself under control, unclenching his jaw and forcing himself to take a slow, even breath as Connor's voice continued.  Hank was sitting in the corner of the classroom, not somewhere Connor had looked yet, apparently. That or he was a fantastic actor.

"I won't be taking attendance every time, but I need to put faces to names.  James Aaron. Son Abomination. Kimberly Addams. Henry Anderson."

The words were out of his mouth automatically "Call me Hank." Connor's head snapped to the side, eyes widening for a moment when he saw Hank.  Then his jaw clenched, he took a slow breath, made a note on the sheet as he had for call-me-Kim, and continued on. "T-timothy Beckett. Julia Benson..."

Hank stayed silent through the entire class, part of him panicking, and he knew he'd have to address this somehow.  He wasn't going to not at least talk to Connor about what the fuck they were going to do about this. After class was over, he managed to file out with the rest of them.  Thankfully the outflow was matched by an inflow and Hank knew Connor would be stuck and couldn't follow him. 

He found an empty bench in the quad and went through his papers for Connor's office hours.  Shit. He had office hours from one to two, and five to seven, and Hank had a class at one. Fucked as this situation was, he wasn't going to miss a first class.

Fuck, fuck.  And now Hank's next class was at one, with this Doctor Mann.  Wife? Husband? God, is  _ that _ why Connor had to drive an hour?  Hank shook his head. He didn't want to think that about him, so until he had evidence, he wasn't going to.

Since he couldn't do anything until later, Hank made himself climb to his feet and head for his car.  He'd planned to eat at the campus cafeteria but he needed to get away for a little while. He had no appetite whatsoever, but thirty years as a cop trained him that if he had a chance, he ate.  

He found a little sub shop a few miles off campus, getting a meat laden foot long an eating it in his car, washing it down with a coke.  A tiny part of him wanted to find a bar and crawl back into a bottle. But he was done with that part of his life. He could still have a drink or two but never during the day anymore.  Instead, he made his way back to campus, this time managing to snag a closer spot to the building his next class was in.

Between his lunch and brushing up on the reading for his first English class, Hank ate up the time and managed to keep his mind mostly off of Connor.  When he stepped into the sparsely populated classroom, the forget-about-Connor plan went right out the fucking window. Doctor Mann wasn't a husband, Doctor Mann had to be a brother.  Possibly a fucking  _ twin _ .

Sinking into a seat at the edge of the classroom, as was becoming his usual, he got ready and did his utmost to ignore the fact that he had probably fucked this guy's brother into next week.

When Doctor Mann began to speak, Hank heard the difference instantly.  Where Connor's voice was warm and pleasant, Doctor Mann's wasn't. It wasn't grating, but it had a hardness that Connor's was lacking, even in Professor Mode.

"Welcome to English 101.  Since you're all here, I'll assume you know my name.  I am not Mister Mann. I am not  _ Professor _ Mann - that's my brother.  I am  _ Doctor _ Mann.  Just 'Doctor' is sufficient."

Hank didn't miss the careful pause between Doctor and Mann and understood why he didn't want the full proper address.  'Doctorman' sounded like something that was light years beneath this man's dignity.

"So, just to be clear!" Some joker spoke up, sounding oh so fucking smug.  "You're Doctor and not Doctorman, right? Just Doctor? Like that dude in the blue box?" He laughed and got a high five from one of his buddies.

Hank saw those grey eyes flash and just waited for the little shit to get incinerated.

"What is your name, young man?" Doctor Mann reached behind him, unerringly finding the now familiar attendance sheet on a clipboard.

"Jimmy Prescott."

"Congratulations, Mister Prescott, you have managed to obtain a negative grade on your first day.  Well done. I am deducting two points from whatever your final score happens to be, one for interrupting me, and the second for ignoring me."

Hank managed not to laugh at the way the kid's face turned red and he sputtered indignantly at being called on his behavior so swiftly.  When no 'my father will hear about this!' emerged, Hank was almost disappointed.

After that, the class stayed quiet as he continued, and segued from introduction to the actual class.

Then he was cut loose and at odds once again.   Any other day he'd be on the highway already, driving home.  Today, however, he had to wait around to talk to Connor, needing to clear the air about what had happened.  And what they were going to do about it. 

After leaving Doctor Mann's classroom, Hank made his way to the library, getting lost once, but only once.  There he at least managed to get his psych homework done.

It killed an embarrassing amount of time, since he had to keep looking shit up.  It was one thing to have an experienced understanding of practical application, it was another to have to put names to it and everything like it.

His criminology homework stayed tucked away, just in case he wound up having to drop the class.  It was an unpleasant thought; what he could remember of the class had been interesting. Though, granted, he hadn't remembered much, too distracted by trying not to remember Connor naked and bouncing on his dick.  Hank groaned quietly and rested his head on folded arms.

"Excuse me?" A soft voice had Hank lifting his head.  "You're in, Doctor, ah, English class?"

"Yeah.  Yeah, I am.  Kelly, right?" The doctor had taken attendance after the introduction and he vaguely recalled her, thirty years of putting names to faces in a hurry came in handy.  The girl looked like someone he knew in middle school and fuck if that didn't make him feel old. Her big glasses didn't help, either.

"Yeah!" She beamed at him.  "Some of us are doing a study group, we heard he's pretty vicious and you saw what he did to Jimmy!  So we want all the support we can get. Do you wanna join?"

"Well, I will say Jimmy had it coming."  He was surprised and genuinely touched by the offer.  He'd expected to be slogging it alone, very much an outsider among his classmates.  Then something occurred to him - they probably assumed he had somewhere to meet that wasn't a dorm.  He did, but it was an hour away. "Where is this study group planning to meet up?"

"There's a little cafe just off campus, the upper floor is reserved for study groups as long as everyone has student ID." 

Surprising, and pleasant.  He still figured he'd be an outsider, but at least one some of the kids were trying to include him.  "I've got a meeting at five tonight but yeah, I'll at least give it a try."

"Great! If you can text your schedule link, I'll get a schedule drawn up for when we're all free." 

Hank blinked at her.  He knew he had a schedule link somewhere, but he couldn't get to it from his phone.  "I have this," he pulled out his printed schedule, keeping it handy because it had Connor's office hours on it, and he'd d kept checking in case they decided to change.

"Oh! Okay," She seemed undaunted by having recruited a luddite.  Laying the paper flat, she took a picture, "And what's your number?"

That, at least, he could give her easily.  A few moments later, his phone chirped, and at her expectant look, he checked it.  A message from her [I added you to the study group chat!] "Thanks," he said with a smile, still a little off kilter at the turn of events, but it was ... nice.

"Welcome! see you soon!" she gave him a wave and bounced off.

Quarter to five.   Enough time to meander towards Connor's office.  As he walked, his stomach grew tighter and tighter and more than once he stopped and had to force himself to keep going rather than run for the car and give this all up as a bad fucking idea.  Not just talking to Connor, but the whole thing. The class. School. Fucking sobriety.

Instead he manned up - HA! - and approached Connor's office door, finding it open.  He hovered just outside, losing his nerve once again. When he peeked in, he saw Connor in a chair, his back to the door and that gave him the courage to step closer.  This was very different than the first time they met. Hank had been in charge, at the club and at his house. This, however, this was Connor's arena and Hank was desperately out of his element. 

Hank must have been standing close enough to block the light because Connor seemed to be aware of someone in his door.  "Come in or make room for someone else," Connor snapped, sounding more impatient than Hank expected, and he wondered if he'd been identified.  

Hank almost ran - again - then he spotted that mug on Connor's desk.  The fact that he seemed to cherish it - or at least was using it - stirred something uncomfortable and unfamiliar in Hank and he made himself step inside.    Closing the door, he even went so far as to twist the rod to close the blinds. "Think we should probably talk." He couldn't decide whether to call him Professor or Con so opted for neither.

The way Connor froze, Hank knew he hadn't realized who his visitor was until that moment.  His shoulders slumped and his head sagged forward. "We should," he agreed quietly, finally turning around as Hank settled into the rickety seeming chair across his desk.  Connor folded his hands on his desk, then laid them flat, then curled them into fists and nested them. "Do you know why I drove an hour to get what I was after?"

"I have my theories but why don't you tell me?" Hank suggested, sitting back, fingers laced and resting on his belly.  It was strangely comforting to see Connor as nervous about this as he was.

"To avoid ... this.  To eliminate the risk of sleeping with a student. Or at least reduce it."

Hank wanted to laugh, not at Connor but just at the sheer irony.  Something must have shown on his face because Connor's scowl deepened, then broke as he chuckled, finally seeing the humor of it.  "Probably didn't expect some asshole my age to turn up in your class, either," Hank admitted. "When you said you taught kids, I figured grade school."

"I was mostly just objecting to being called 'kid' by some guy I was hoping to get- well, you know."

"I do indeed.  Look," leaned forward, elbows on the desk.  "I don't want to make this uncomfortable. But I had to address ... what happened.  Talk to you about it." See you again. Maybe ask you to dinner.

Connor reached for the mug, sliding it to rest it between his hands.  "I've been using this every day," he addressed the top of the mug. "I didn't want to leave."

"Didn't want to let you go either, one reason I gave you that thing.  I ... liked the idea of you having something o-of me, when you left."

Connor lifted his gaze then and gave Hank a mischievous smile.   "English must have been a fun class."

"Oh fuck!" Hank shook his head.  "Yeah, that was something else, at least until he opened his mouth.  How'd you know?"

"We always exchange student lists, partly so we know who's apt to mistake us, and also it's not unheard of for people to try and curry favor with him through me."

"Ouch.  Don't imagine that would go over well at all.  He already docked one kid in my class."

"He does that in almost every class.  Not because he wants to, but with his bearing, there's always someone who wants to push it."

"Scared the kids into recruiting me for a study group.  What do you even do in a study group?"

"Study." Connor's eyes lit up with mirth.

"Oh, well, thank you!" Hank shook his head with a laugh.  "All I wanna know is besides 'doctorman,' is there anything likely to sink me in his class?" He hoped this wasn't asking too much.

Connor bit his bottom lip thoughtfully, then shook his head.  "Nope. I could tell you which authors he does or doesn't like, but he has lot more respect for someone who's willing to stand their ground about their own tastes, even  _ bad _ taste.   He's really actually very fair.  He's just scary. Don't interrupt him, do  _ not _ call him Doctorman, and besides that, just don't back down if you have an opinion.  Unlike some of the faculty, he won't actually dock you for disagreeing with him."

"Well that's good at least.  After fifty years I'm fucking full of opinions, and generally not afraid of expressing them."

"Good, you'll do fine.  Who else do you have?"

Hank rattled off the names, watching Connor sit back, glad they were getting more comfortable.  Or at least less uneasy. "Stern's good, she'll appreciate that you'll have a lot of experience to draw on.  Nines we already covered. Kamski … She's a pretty woman in a STEM field so you can imagine how little shit she'll take. She's more ruthless than  my brother, she just doesn't look it. Reed is ... new, and kind of a hothead, he was a last minute replacement at the end of last year." He eyed Hank thoughtfully.  "He likes to push buttons, and I think he'll try to push yours."

"I'm remarkably button free, thankfully." Unless this Reed tried to needle him about dead kids, he wasn't going to get much of a rise out of Hank.

"That's not true at all," Connor said quietly and the air shifted, crackling between them as they both thought about exactly which buttons Connor meant.

The moment stretched between them, Hank licking his lips. "Con-"  Then a sharp knock at the door had them both jump half out of their skin.   

"One moment!" Connor called, writing something on a sticky note and handing it to Hank.  "Send me a text and I'll get you the rest of the information," he said, fully back into professor mode.

Hank was still recovering from the whiplash of interruption and nodded.  Not trusting his voice, he pocketed the note and stood. Outside, he slid through the knot of students, then watched them file in.  Over their heads he could see Connor putting on a decent game face. It was impressive to watch but Hank didn't let himself linger.


	3. Chapter 3

"Yes, I'll be covering everything in class, thank you!" Connor closed his office door after ushering out the last of his students at 7:10.  Then he buried his head in his hands and almost screamed.

Hank.  What the hell was Hank doing here? It had taken almost a week of burying himself in class prep to get that night out of Connor's mind.  Or at least, get the night less prominent in his mind every time he stopped working. He'd bent poor Markus' ear about it, going back and forth as to whether or not he should go back, maybe try for something.  But Hank hadn't wanted more than what they got. Neither had Connor, really. Except he did. He'd still been toying with going up this weekend, offering himself for a weekend of mindless fucking. Just to get those hands all over him again.  

"Fuck!"  Connor didn't swear much, not even during sex, but right now it really was the only sound that could begin to express how he was feeling.

"Difficult students already?" Nines smooth voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts.  The doctor of English stood in Connor's now reopened office doorway.

Right.  Dinner. "You have no idea," Connor forced himself to smile as he stood, stuffing his papers into his briefcase.

"I have difficult students, too, you know." Nines had his hands folded behind his back while he waited, his own bag no doubt already in the car.

"Yeah, but you're scary when they cop an attitude you just dock a few points."

"If you would be firmer with your students-"

"I do just fine! I'm just ...  It's nothing. Bad day." Connor was about the only person on earth who could get away with interrupting his brother and he used it shamelessly.  "Where did you want to go?" He snapped his case shut and stepped out of his office, locking the door behind him.

Nines studied him, head tipped slightly to the side.  "If you wish to reschedule ..."

"No.  No, it's fine.  I could use a meal." They began the walk to Nines' car.

The drive to the restaurant was quiet, Nines seeming to sense that Connor needed a little space.  Despite what his students thought,  _ 'The  _ Doctor' was really caring, he just took academia more seriously than ... most.  The few students who dared approach him found he could be generous - within reason, given they conducted themselves like adults.

That being said, Connor would never, ever tell him about Hank.  Nines wouldn't tattle, but the judgment might be more than Connor could handle.  Nines already looked down on him, Connor was five years older and didn't have a doctorate.  Worse, he'd never even tried for one, content with a masters in his chosen, decidedly not 'academic' subject.  With every passing year, it got harder and harder to fill the mold his family shaped for him.

Once they had ordered, drinks in hand, Nines finally spoke. "You've had a dark cloud all day, Connor," Nines' voice was soft, more kind than most of his students would believe was possible.  "What's wrong?"

"I-" I slept with one of my students.  I want to sleep with him again. I'm not cut out for teaching.  I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I'm not like you. I'm not what mother and father wanted me to be.  "It's really nothing, just didn't sleep well last night."

Blue eyes narrowed and Connor suspected his brother wasn't buying it for a second.  He had the grace not to push, though, and for that Connor was thankful. "Any interesting students?  We have a fair amount of overlap this semester."

"James Prescott, I had him for my three o'clock, what did you do to that boy? He took one look at me and I thought he would bolt."

Nines chuckled.  "He interrupted me, and he apparently didn't listen." Nines took a sip of wine.  "You have Henry Anderson, yes?"

The question caught Connor a bit flat-footed, eyes going wide.  "I-I think so. Why?" Did he know? Had Connor - or Hank - given something away?

"He didn't say much in my class, but Amanda has him as well, she believes he'll be an interesting student."

"He's, uhm, older, right? Beard?" Massive build, big hands, powerful thighs, voice straight from the underworld?

"He arrived at Amanda's class before her, and some of the others thought he was the professor."

"Ouch.  It can't be easy, coming back to school at his age." Why? He hadn't said anything about it, but then they hadn't really talked about their lives much.  Connor being a teacher, Hank being an ex-cop was the sum total of what they'd known about each other until this morning.

"I don't imagine so.  He seems to be a full-time student, not merely taking a few classes." Nines fixed Connor with a pointed look.  "Not everyone is cut out for college life."

That had Connor looking away in shame before finishing his wine in a few gulps.  Maybe he  _ should _ have rescheduled.  "Are you going to be doing that joint project with  Professor Reed?" He asked, needing to get the topic off of him in any fashion.

Nines scowled.  "He has yet to return any query on the subject.  If I don't hear from him soon, I'll approach him personally."

"It's a good project, and you'll be doing most of the fiddly work so I don't even know why he wouldn't go for it.  I mean, at this point, you did it with Professor Hawkins enough that you know the subject as well as he did, so he wouldn't even have to do anything more than give out the assignment."

"Professor Reed is irascible, irritating, loud, overly emotional, and arrogant. He has a lax manner around the students, and is clearly neglectful of work-related communication.  I don't know why I'm even attempting a joint project with him."

Connor watched his brother, seeing something in his face he almost didn't recognize.  "You like him!" He managed not to crow it, just barely. "You like Reed!"

"Didn't I just list all the reasons not to like him?"

"Nines, brother dear, when you don't like someone, you don't talk about them.  You say you dislike them and you change the subject. You don't enumerate their qualities, good or bad, and then lament that they haven't called you back."

Nines scowled and forestalled any answer with a sip of wine.  He set his glass down carefully and played with the stem, not meeting Connor's gaze.  "Perhaps he has a certain appeal."

Connor softened at that, knowing that while Nines was academically superior, he was far, far less comfortable outside of his Ivory Tower.  Relationships, even with other academics, were not something he did often or easily. "He'd be an idiot not go for you."

"You mean my project."

"I mean you.  You're a great guy, once you let people in.  I'm lucky to be one of them."

Thankfully, Nines was saved from further emotional displays by the arrival of their food.  The conversation shifted onto safer topics like their co-workers, upcoming school events and the like.

By the time Nines dropped Connor off in front of his faculty housing, Connor was feeling generally better about the state of the world, if still extremely antsy about the Hank situation.  Going inside to drop off his briefcase, Connor texted Markus to see if he was available. Markus, at least, wouldn't judge, and he needed to talk to someone about this situation.

[I've got some time] [What's up?]

Crap.  He was probably meeting with Simon later.  [Remember Hank?]

[The name has etched itself into my brain yeah]

[He was in my class today.]

[Wait, like he found you and came to your classroom?] [That's creepy!]

[No i mean he was IN my class can i come over i need to talk about this]

[Shit] [yeah come on over]

Connor locked his door and jogged down to the end of the street, not bothering to knock as he opened Markus' door.  "-okay, thanks baby, I love you." Connor heard Markus winding up a call.

"Tell Simon I'm sorry, I ... " he generally prided himself on not breaking down, but he was close right now.  "Markus, I don't know what to do."

Markus guided him to a chair and sat on the adjacent couch.  "So your one-night stand turned up as a student. What's his name?"

"H-Hank Anderson.  Nines has him, too.  I was this close to planning a trip back up there this weekend."

"Well, that's off the table.  Right? Connor?"

Connor looked away, knowing it wasn't as off the table as Markus wanted to hear. "Probably."

"Connor! He's a  _ student!  _ You won't get in trouble for what happened before but if you do anything now-"

"I know! I know! And it isn't just the sex.  I - There was ... a connection." He knew how he sounded and couldn't bring himself to look at Markus as he said it.

"Have you talked to him?"

Connor nodded, picking at a nail. "He came to my five o'clock hours.  We ... talked. Nothing was resolved but ... we talked. It was really nice."

"Oh, Connor, you've got it bad." Markus at least sounded sympathetic and reached over to give Connor's arm a squeeze.  "Can you ... see if he'll switch out of your classes?"

"That ... wouldn't solve the problem.  He'd still be off limits, still on campus.  And I'd still want to- That rule's supposed to be about protecting the younger students from predators-"

"No.  Connor, Don't start thinking like that.  Whatever the reason for the rule is, you'd lose your job if anyone found out.  And while I don't think you'd let him skate by in your class, it's ... There's a lot of risks.  Hell, all you need is one student to get extra snoopy ..."

"I know.  I know," he leaned forward, face buried in his hands, taking comfort in Markus' rubbing his shoulder.  He almost poured out everything, how much he hated his job, how difficult it was getting, how he almost  _ wanted  _ to get fired.  But he'd never told Markus any of that, either.  He'd never so much as breathed a word of discontent about his job itself, not to anyone.  Finally, he straightened, squaring his shoulders and slapping on a smile. "I should let you go, you were gonna do something with Simon and I got in the way.  Just because _ I'm  _ not getting any, doesn't give me the right to cockblock you."

"Are you sure? I already called him and he's pretty understanding."

Connor's heart ached at the affection he saw in Markus' eyes, both for himself and for Simon.  "Yeah, it's fine. Sorry I barged in, I just needed ... To actually  _ say _ something about it.  I had dinner with Nines but -"

"I get it.  Come on." 

They both stood and Markus pulled him in for a tight hug, letting it linger as Connor gripped him tightly.  "Simon's a lucky guy."

"I'm the lucky one.  You're really gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll just go home, work up an extra vicious pop quiz or something."

"They're already scared of Nines, they don't need to be scared of you, too!"

"Raar," Connor said, though his heart wasn't in it.  He could hear Markus already on the phone as he closed the door behind him.

On the stroll back to his pace, Connor's phone beeped and he checked it.  A message from an unfamiliar number, did he want to see it? At first, he moved to dismiss it, then paused.  He'd given Hank his number. Pocketing his phone, he jogged the rest of the way back to his place. Only once he was inside did he view the message, flopping onto his couch.

[This is Hank. I'm not very good at texting, do you mind if I call?]

Licking his lips, half of his mind screaming that this was a very bad idea, Connor quickly added the number to his contact list, then called it.

"Hello?"

"Hank." Connor did his best not to wiggle, hearing that voice in his ear.

"Hey.  Sorry it took so long to get in touch.  Had to get home, take care of a few things.  Then the lady whose kid watches Sumo made me dinner."

"That's sweet.  How is Sumo?" It felt safer to ask about the dog than Hank.

"He's good.  Likes having the undivided attention of an eight-year-old for a while."

Connor laughed softly.  "Does he get your undivided attention, too?"

"Not as much as he'd like, I'm sure."

"I know that feeling," the words came out so easily, quietly spoken.  "I shouldn't have said that."

"I can't blame you, though.  I'm having similar thoughts. Can't get that weekend out of my head, Con."

Connor shivered at the quiet way he said 'Con', just like he had that weekend.  Quiet, rough, hungry. "Me either. It was all I could do just to keep my mind on work."

"Yeah.  I got my psych homework done like a good boy before I went to your office,  but ever since we talked again I've been fucking hopeless."

"I had to get through dinner with Nines without saying anything."

"Can I ask something?"

"You can ask anything."

"Is Nines really his first name?"

Connor laughed, sinking further down on the couch, kicking his shoes off.  "No. It's Niles. I used to have a bit of a speech problem, I couldn't say my L's right.  So before I got into school and got speech therapy, I called him Nines, and it stuck. He still made out better than me."

"Connorman, not too bad."

"Oh, you don't even know my middle name yet."

"So tell me."

"It's embarrassing!" He covered his face with one hand, even though he was grinning.

"I've seen you naked, Connor, you can tell me." 

Hank's voice was sweetly charming and Connor didn't even try to resist.  "Hugh."

"Hugh?  Connor Hugh Ma-Oh my god! I ... why would your parents do that to you?"

"Mother claims it was just an unfortunate convergence of naming traditions on her side of the family."

"You sound doubtful."

"Think about my initials."  He could hear Hank murmuring the permutations to himself, then the penny dropped.  C. Mann.

"How much therapy did you need growing up? Kids can be nasty sons of bitches."

"Not as much as you'd think." At least not because of his name.  "What about you? Just Henry Anderson, nothing embarrassing in there?"

"Just good old Hank Anderson.  Middle name's Nicholas."

"Henry Nicholas Anderson.  I like it."

"Sounds nice when you say it."

"You don't like it?"

"I prefer Hank.  Mom only whipped out the full shebang when I was in trouble."

"I usually just get Connor.  Doesn't even get shortened most of the time." Which is why Hank saying it the way he did made him squirm a little.

"No one else calls you Con, hmm?" Hank's voice dropped noticeably as he spoke.

"Just you." Connor rubbed a hand over his belly, absently tugging his shirt free, telling himself he was just getting more comfortable.

"I like that.  Like calling you Con." Hank's voice was getting slow, deliberate.  "Like the way you whine just a little when I say it."

"Hank." Connor knew they were treading on dangerous ground and he had no one to blame but himself.  All he wanted to do was keep going.

"Fuck.  I shouldn't be talking like that.  I shouldn't-" He sighed, his voice sounding more normal, less seductive.  "I'm sorry, Con. Connor."

"This is ... this is all probably a bad idea but I don't want to hang up." The confession came out in a single rushed breath.

"Neither do I.  I-I got nothing left to lose, but I don't wanna fuck up your life. If we get caught-"

"I know." Connor folded an arm over his eyes with a sigh.  "I know." The silence stretched between them, the two of them taking slow breaths.  Connor finally spoke again. "Why did you become a cop?" It was something he'd considered, briefly.

"Wanted to help people.   I know that's a lame answer.  But ... it's what I wanted to do. What about you? How'd you end up teaching criminology?"

"I always wanted to be a cop." This was easier, talking about them without getting too intimate.  Connor hoped it stayed this way. "But it wasn't really an option for me. My whole family is academics.  Mother, Father, the seven siblings they have between them, and three of our four parents; Gramma Connie was a housewife, not an academic.  I'm the black sheep because I didn't go into a suitably weighty academic field. My mother teaches history, my father teaches English, they both have doctorates.  My brother teaches English and also has a doctorate. Two uncles teach geography, one aunt teaches physics. All very solid, respected ivory tower pursuits. Before me, the closest to a black sheep were a pair of aunts who both teach Women's Studies."

"Sounds like a lot of family pressure."

Hank's voice was soft, warm with understanding, at least it seemed to Connor and he rolled onto his side, catching the phone between his head and the pillow.  "It was. It is. Nines is younger than me. Five years younger and he's got a doctorate. And he's working on a second one. I've only got the one masters and I'm  _ happy  _ with it."

"Then they should be, too.  Parents should support their kids, no matter what."

There was a catch in Hank's voice when he said that and Connor wondered if he spoke from experience.  And from which side? "They ... do. They just do so disapprovingly. I mean, they paid for my schooling. I don't get ignored or anything but ... I haven't been home for Thanksgiving the last few years.  I'm not entirely sure I was missed very much."

"Oh, Con.  How far away is home?"

"Seattle.  I came to Michigan because it was the first place I could get a job teaching what I actually wanted."

"I'm glad you did."

"Even with ... how difficult things will be this year?"

"Con, things wouldn't  _ be _ difficult if was easy to get you out of my head.  It's ... been a long time since I've had anything good in there.  Yeah, it's worth it."

"Thank you." That had Connor feeling soft and squishy and he just wanted to burrow into Hank and feel safe and warm for a little while.  "I think so, too. This is going to be the hardest year since I've started teaching, but I'm glad ... I'm glad you happened to me."

"I'm glad too, Con.  Real glad. I think we better hang up before I start telling you just  _ how  _ glad."

Hanks' voice got deeper again and Connor barely managed to bite back a whine.  "P-probably for the best."

Through some massive show of will power, or perhaps divine intervention, they managed to get off the phone without things devolving again.

Gathering his shoes to drop them by the front door, Connor headed into the shower.  There, he stood under the spray, attempting to wash away the shame of wanting to sleep with a student.  If his parents or Nines found out,  _ that  _ would be the problem.  Not that Hank was so much older than Connor, not that he was male.  No, it would be that he was a student. They might actually disown him over it. 

Finally, the water began to chill and Connor rinsed quickly and climbed out.  Drying himself absently, he dressed in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt before climbing into bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cole can stand as a name all by itself. It's also a short form of Nicholas, which is why Hank has that for a middle name.


	4. Chapter 4

Hank wasn't entirely sure how he managed to get off the phone but he did, and he didn't sleep well because of the call. Connor was gonna be the death of him, assuming school wasn't. They had to talk if only to establish that it was probably wise if they didn't talk anymore.  To once more acknowledge this thing between them, which had wrapped itself even more tightly around Hank’s heart in the last twenty-four hours than it had in the week before that.

Hank rolled out of bed with a groan and while his coffee was brewing, he checked Connor's schedule for Tuesday and sighed. Yeah, he had office hours but they overlapped very neatly with his math class, no way he could duck in before or after.

Hank didn't have to leave as early today, owing to his first usual class being cancelled, but he decided to head out at what would be his usual time. Partly to get himself more quickly into the habit, but also because he wanted to check out the study group’s cafe. He wanted to know if it any good or did it just use the promise of free space to lure in customers?

Once Sumo was settled back inside, Hank dressed and headed out. The drive felt longer today, maybe because he had last night's talk with Connor hanging over his head. Hank  _ liked _ the guy. He had last week, but he hadn't known as much about him. Now he did. He knew they had similar interests, that Connor had an embarrassing name and wasn't close to his family, except his brother. Connor had a laugh that made Hank smile just thinking about it.  _ Fuck. _ Hank hadn't been smitten in a long time, but he was old enough and honest enough with himself to recognize it. He didn't even have crushes on his teachers when he was in school the first time around.

Hank could deal with this, not seeing Connor today would help. He'd see him tomorrow, and the call wouldn't be so fresh in his mind then. Probably. Hopefully.

Needing a distraction, Hank switched on his cd player and let Knights of the Black Death blare loud enough to drown out anything else.

When he cut the music off after parking, his ears were ringing a little and it was yet another reminder of encroaching age. And here he was, crushing on a thirty-something. The Cafe the Students Go To - that was its actual name - had a line. Like everything else, that made him think of Connor, and his complaint about the coffee situation at work.

While he waited, Hank pulled out his phone, quickly shutting the brief text exchange with Connor and bringing up the study group chat, which had a hundred messages since he'd checked the night before. Most of them were general introductions and greetings. Kelly, of course, with a cat in glasses icon; Traci with the bright blue hair; Jimmy Prescott a selfie with a 'hang loose' sign; Jerry with a jolly roger; North with a cartoon gun; Brad with a closeup of an eye, and a handful of others.

While he was catching up, a message popped up from North asking if anyone was at the cafe and could they please please grab her a coffee? She was gonna be out of class in about 20 minutes. When no one else answered, Hank thumbed a message.

[I'm in line, about two people away from the door] [What kind of coffee?]

She replied with a fancy combination of french words and flavorings and then a thumbs up, three heart emojis and a lips emoji.

For some reason the emojis made Hank smile and while he shuffled forward on the relatively quick moving line, he decided to get her a doughnut. Then realized she might not like them. Since someone was in line already, Kelly and newcomer Ralph each asked for coffees. That offered a solution to the doughnut problem and when he got to the counter, he ordered the requested drinks, and then one plain black coffee, along with their breakfast bag - a dozen assorted pastries, doughnuts, and muffins.

The line was still out the door, so Hank carried the drinks and bag out to his car, setting them on the hood. Thankfully he was parked in front of the cafe.

[Coffee awaits, I'm the old guy standing next to the junker.]

Not five minutes later he saw Kelly waving as she headed over. Hank handed over her coffee and offered her pick of the bag. North and Ralph arrived shortly after and soon Hank found himself in a discussion with North about his car. Her mom had an older vehicle too, but it was North who did most of the work on it - even though she couldn't drive.

Hank finally had to take his leave for math class, and when he announced that, North insisted on walking him.

"My next class is in the same building. I had Kamski last year, she's a ball buster but if you do the work she's fine. She also heads up the robotics club."

"I haven't taken math since before they invented calculus," Hank said with a chuckle.

North laughed. "Right, I'm this way," she pointed to their left once they stepped inside the building. "Kamski is right there, room 104. See you later!"

Hank settled down, a few minutes early and found himself desperately hoping that the confusing jumble of letters, numbers, and symbols on the board was for a much more advanced class and the professor just hadn't erased them yet.

Doctor Kamski - at least this one - was medium height with ice blonde hair over one shoulder. She quickly shattered Hank's admittedly meager hope - what was on the board was a pop quiz, she announced, to assess what everyone already knew or didn't know.

One time, when Hank was in third grade, he couldn't answer more than a third of the questions on one math quiz, so he'd turned the paper over and did a very bad drawing of himself pleading with the teacher to 'please don't fail me!' He'd gotten an F on the test itself, but she had added a "free essay" score to it and bumped it up to a D+ which technically wasn't failing. Somehow he didn't think a cute drawing would go over well with Dr. Kamski.

Still, he didn't get this far by giving up, so Hank did his best. He was fairly sure he was doing it wrong, but he was reaching back over 30 years for some of this, and he was dead certain math was more complex at an early grade now than it had been for him.

He felt a little awkward once he finished, realizing the others were still scribbling away at their papers. So he went back over his, assuming he'd missed something somewhere. He was at least able to get a little farther in one of the answers before the others began to finish.

He handed over his paper with the others as they filed out at last, already suspecting he'd have to get a tutor if he planned to not fail miserably. In fact, he was surprised he didn't need one for any other classes - so far. History he'd probably be okay, since he lived through so fuckin' much of it. Art ... it would depend entirely on what art theory actually was. He'd grabbed it because at the very least it looked like something that wouldn't involve any actual artistic skill, of which he had none, but still play into his artistic interest, of which he had plenty. Evidenced by the amount of it gracing his skin.

Since Hank had plenty of time before art class, he opted to head back to the same sandwich place he'd gone to yesterday. Partly because of everything he knew about cafeteria food in general, and partly to butter them up in the hopes of finding a math tutor, he sent the study group a message. He mentioned where he was going and asked if anyone wanted anything from there. When there were no takers by the time he got to his car, he remembered something else about college students and sent [my treat].

By the time he got there and checked his messages again, he was buying six different sandwiches, plus his own. They were having a lunch special so each kid got a bonus bag of chips and 1 litre soda to go with it.

Returning to campus, Hank parked and found his way to a picnic table in front of the cafeteria and told them all where he was. He was soon swarmed by hungry college students, including one girl with Kelly carrying a tray from the cafeteria. As they all ate, the conversation drifted from the purpose of the study group, which would now include the newcomer, to their plans for the weekend. He didn't have much to offer either conversation so he just listened, which he enjoyed doing anyway.

Being surrounded by these students was giving him a sense of vibrancy he hadn't expected, and he only hoped he wasn't coming off like a creep, buying them food and watching silently.  A conversation eventually sprang up about a popular book that Kara had been talking about - at least he knew enough to participate, now

Kelly got their attention and confirmed if Wednesday at six was good for everyone.  

They all agreed the time would be fine.  Kelly and her friend departed then, hand in hand and Hank finished up the last of his sandwich.  With repeated thanks, the others peeled away, leaving him with North.

"No class to scurry off to?" he asked with a smile.

"Not until later, no.  Why, tryin' to get rid of me?" North was grinning as she popped open her bag of chips.

"Not hardly, I actually wanted to ask you something.  You said you took Kamski's math class last year, and robotics club ... I get the impression - now I might be wrong, but I was a cop for thirty years so I'm pretty good at picking up clues - you're good at math, right?"

She laughed.  "You would be correct."

"I haven't been to a math class in let's call it over thirty years, and I wasn't good at it  _ then  _ but I managed to squeak by because my math teacher gave points for effort and I was good about turning in my homework." He sighed and shook his head. "What I'm getting at is I need a tutor.  She did a pop quiz and I couldn't even figure out what two of the problems were asking, let alone how to solve them."

"Well, one of them isn't solvable - she doesn't do it so you get a bad grade, it's to see how you approach the problem."

"I thought the whole point of math was that there was always an answer."

"Nope!  There's a lot of math that isn't solvable, or has multiple solutions - but-" she waved her hands.  "Nevermind, okay. I'm gonna have to take a look at my schedule, to see if I can do it, if I can't, I'll find you someone who can."

"That's all I can ask.  And I can pay, money, food, cop stories, some combination."

"I'll think about it," she promised.  "What's your next class?"

"Art Theory, with Professor Manfred.  They didn't have 'history of tattoos' as an elective."

"I haven't taken art theory, but I'm taking his drawing class this Friday."

"English, math, drawing, got a real renaissance woman here," he chuckled.

"I'm not super good but I want to design an android eventually, so it makes sense to learn to draw."

"Androids, huh? Isn't that kind of science fictiony?" He was more curious than anything - he didn't think robotics was anything close to that yet.

"Yep.  But so was TV at one point.  And flying. Girl's gotta have a dream." Thankfully she didn't seem too put off, then her gaze turned a bit wicked.  "Besides, that junker of yours is old enough to be the one you got when you learned to drive and it still runs, tell me that's not magic."

"You know, now that you mention it, my mechanic never  _ does _ let me see her when he's working on her..."

They continued chatting until he had to get to class.  

Art Theory at least seemed fairly simple and the professor was engaging.  Hank was right, they wouldn't be asked to  _ create  _ anything.  Or at least, they would but they weren't going to be getting graded on artistic skill, only their understanding of it.

Surprisingly, while they were filing out, Hank was asked to stay a minute.  Or rather, Mr. Anderson was asked to stay a minute and it took Hank a hot second to remember that was him.  Three years off the force he still thought of himself as Lieutenant Anderson or Hank.

"I teach a live art class on Fridays, and my usual model for the class is going to be unavailable this year.  I prefer to have unconventional models and I think you'd be very interesting for the students to draw."

"Why me?" Hank asked after he thought it over.  There was unconventional - like the professor's mismatched eyes.  And then there was fat, old, and hairy.

"Your age is a factor, older bodies have a lot more character.  You indicated you have tattoos which are excellent for the class, the more detail the better.  Frankly, your build is another factor - your height, yes, but also your bulk, which means you aren't just straight lines.  Longer hair on a man, a beard, all of it makes you very nearly an ideal subject."

It was a strange experience for Hank, having his body described in such complimentary terms, without there being an ounce of sexual motivation or interest - on either of their parts that he could tell.  "So what do you need, just for me to show up and sit around?" He knew - both from what he'd seen in the world and what was on the walls of the classroom - that it was not going to be that simple.

"If you would prefer, we can drape certain areas but fully nude would be best."

The fact that Professor Manfred didn't seem at all uneasy about this conversation was soothing to Hank and he couldn't imagine the class being much different.  And college students, he was very quickly learning, were a surprisingly mature bunch. "Just the one class?" North said she was taking a drawing class.

"Only one on Friday.  I have a few models I work with, but the one for the Friday class just called me this morning, or rather her wife did - she fell and broke her hip.  It would be bad enough at any age but she's eighty-two."

Hank winced, broken anything at that age wasn't fun.  On the other hand, it did put him a little at ease about his own age if he modeled.  "Alright," He finally said. "What time on Friday?"

After they settled on the details - how long and how much, Hank just had to swing by the main office before Friday and sign the paperwork.

The only question left for Hank to ponder on the way home is whether to give North a heads up or not.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus cheers Connor up, then Connor and Hank have another meaningful conversation.

_ "-at if we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine? Nothing could keep us apar-" _

Connor growled and slapped the snooze button before sitting up. Why  _ that _ song? After making sure it wouldn't taunt him again, Connor stood and made his way to the bathroom.

As he dried, he knew the hardest part of the day would be Hank. In a strange way, he wanted to thank the older man. With Hank throwing such a monkey wrench into Connor's emotions, it was actually making the minutiae of being a professor a little more bearable.

Because classes, papers, grading, they were all still tedious as ever, but at least they kept him from thinking about wanting to sleep with a student. And all of it was now easier than trying to teach a class with Hank in it. How he had survived Monday, Connor wasn't quite sure. Getting off the phone had been a special kind of hell.

Tuesday, at least, had given him some space to get himself back to some kind of right before seeing him again.

Connor suspected to the point of being certain that Hank would show up at his office hours again, and for much the same reason. This was not something they should be doing. No texts or phone calls. Certainly no more meeting up, and no office meetings. Unless Hank needed to see him about something in the class, but considering that he'd been  _ a cop _ he doubted there was anything Connor could actually teach him.

It wasn't until he was almost out the door that he realized he'd unconsciously donned one of his more colorful shirts. It wasn't near Hank's level of boldness, but it was noticeably more starkly patterned than most of his other shirts. He'd worn it a few times over the years but he wasn't sure he'd ever worn it to class, preferring to keep a more serious wardrobe.

After changing, he didn't have any choice but to grab some gussied up french vanilla coffee from the break room. Grimacing at the too-sweet flavor, he made it to his classroom just a few minutes before his first students

It was just enough time to put on his easy-going, unflappable, not-as-scary-as-my-brother-haha professor game face on. The first class went smoothly enough, but of course - Hank wasn't in it.

Hank was in his second class, and avoiding looking at him was the most difficult part. Unfortunately, Hank actually had a fair bit to offer this time, so Connor - luckily or unluckily, he couldn't decide - had plenty of excuses to look his way.

One student approached with a quick question which saved him from watching Hank depart.

The class after Hank was a lot easier if a lot duller.  Luckily for Connor it was followed by lunch with Markus.

"You decent?" Connor called as he opened Markus' front door.

"Never! I am dressed, though," Markus called from the kitchen.

"Whatever you're doing smells good."  Connor set his briefcase down and settled into Markus' kitchen chair.

"Since I actually have a nice chunk of time for lunch, I made chicken Kiev."

"Simon coming?" Connor was still getting to know Markus' boyfriend, not a professor but a librarian here.

"No, he's got a thing, and I wanted to talk to you alone, we haven't had a chance since the other night."

Connor grimaced a little, recalling his panic over Hank.  "He, uh, he actually called right after I left here," he admitted, picking at his shirtsleeve.  It reminded him of his near emulation of the older man because he'd been on his mind this morning.

"How'd that go?"

Markus was careful to keep his voice neutral but Connor knew he was oversensitive about it.  "Nothing happened. I mean-" He pushed his hands through his hair. "It just - I like him. It's not just the sex anymore, we talked and it felt  _ nice _ . I know compared to Ni I'm a social butterfly but I'm not always that good around new people."

"I know.  And you know if anything does happen, you can tell me right? And not just because I want to know what my best friend is up to, but just in case I have to cover your ass."

Connor gave a smile at that.  "The offer is appreciated but I think we'll manage.  We just have to agree no more calls, no more ... Anything," He suddenly felt the weight of everything sitting on his chest.  The job he hated more with every passing year. The perfect weekend that was turning into perfect agony. 

"And the only way to make sure you both agree to that is to meet up and talk about it." Markus said as he turned the stove off and began plating up.

"Yep.  Oh, this looks yummy," Connor's spirits lifted at the artfully arranged plate.  Unlike some pretentious chefs, artfully in this case just meant pretty - it wasn't two lumps of goo and a brightly colored drizzle.  And it looked amazing.

They tucked in, eating quietly for a few minutes until Markus spoke again. "I don't know if you heard, one of my models got hurt."

"Ouch, are they gonna be okay?"

"Should be, but broken hip at eighty two can be dicey.  She's recovering nicely and her wife is fussing endlessly.  Which actually left me needing a nude model on short notice."

At first, the pause just had Connor glancing at Markus, then back at his plate.  Then he looked back up at his friend. There was something fiendishly gleeful in his eyes. Connor began to get a sinking feeling.   _ "No..." _

"He's perfect!" Markus actually giggled and Connor flicked a pea at him.

"I know he's perfect! Gah! And he agreed, didn't he?"

"Stopped by the office to sign the paperwork this morning.  So you've talked  _ at length _ about him, but I have one semi important question, since he'll be modeling nude."

Connor's groan almost drowned out the last word.  FInally he sat up and fixed his friend with a hard stare.  "If you want to know anything you've got to say the words."

"Knowing you and what you like and how satisfied you were, how big is his dick?"

"I never actually saw it soft,"

"You slut!" Markus laughed and Connor found himself joining him.

"Seriously, on a normal sized guy, what he's packing might be a bit excessive but on  _ him _ it's just right." Is this what his life was now? Detailing the size of a one night stands dick because said one night stand, also now a student, was modeling naked for his best friend?

"Good to know.  I'll have some extra drapage ready in case it becomes a problem.  Don't want him giving any of the boys a complex."

"Oh, you know as well as I do quite a few of our students could do with a complex or two."

"Okay, fair point.  He mentioned he had tattoos in class, can I get some specifics?"

"No." Connor shook his head.  "I -" He put his fork down and tried to sort out his thoughts.  "It's hard enough just seeing him in class. Talking about his dick, his ink, it's- I can't.  I need to really see him as a student. You'll see his ink well enough when he models."

"I get it," Markus reached over and gave his wrist as squeeze.  "Sorry I was poking at you, I don't imagine this is very easy."

"No, it's not," he said, giving Mark's hand a little pat.  "And I should expect poking, you're a troll and I've known that for years."

At that, Markus began singing the troll song from the Three Billy Goats Gruff.

It cheered Connor up enough that he could enjoy the rest of his meal.

His first office hours were barren, no one coming by but he kept his door open.  And he kept switching pens just to have an excuse to handle the Sumo mug.

Following his final class of the day, Connor once again had his back to the door when the light shifted as someone stood in the doorway.  Only one person was big enough to block that much light.  

Hank didn't say anything this time, either, and Connor waited until he heard the door close and the chair creak before he turned around, not trusting his face otherwise. 

"I shouldn't have called," Hank finally said.  

"I actually called you," Connor pointed out as he sat back, trying to mirror Hank's more relaxed pose.

"Only because I asked.  Point stands, though, it's- I feel like- This-" Hank leaned forward, gesturing between the two of them. "This isn't nothing."

"No it's not." Connor swallowed and set his hands on the desk, then drew his attention to the mug by dropping another pen into it.  "It was getting too distracting in class," he explained why he'd repurposed it. He knew he should probably give it back, but he had no intention of doing so.

"Like I said the other night, I got nothing left to lose but I don't wanna risk messing things up for you."

That just made Connor want to give Hank something to lose - namely himself.  But that was the whole point, he -  _ they _ weren't an option right now.  "I appreciate that. I don't like that we can't ... explore things." He knew he was talking long term - but he felt a rightness around Hank that was as thrilling as it was unfamiliar.  "At least - not right now."

"I don't think we can do a summer thing, Con." Hank's eyes flashed when he said it though and he was probably having similar thoughts to Connor - what they could get up to for a few months.

"That's not what I'm suggesting.  I know we can't ... do anything about anything right now, but you'll be graduating eventually, right?"

Hank nodded, smiled, then shook his head.  "Can't ask you to wait on me, Con."

"You aren't.  I'm offering." God it would help him get through the next few years, knowing he had Hank at the end of it.  Maybe? "Unless-"

"I'm not saying  _ you _ wouldn't be worth the wait.  And it's not like I've got people lining up."

That reminded Connor and he blushed even as he chuckled.  "That's gonna change come Friday."

Hank's eyes narrowed slightly before they widened. "Professor Manfred told you?"

Connor could see Hank trying to work out why that specific fact would have come up.  "Remember I mentioned the friend that I usually cuddled up to after nights like last weekend?"

"Ah!  And does he know that - I mean that -" He gestured to himself. "I'm that guy?"

Connor nodded, his face heating up a little.  "I told him on Monday, I-I had to say something to someone, and he already knew about 'Hank from that weekend.'  I'm sorry, I know it puts you in a sticky position."

"I get it," Hank said softly.  "My point stands, though. I'm old, drank myself out of a job, I'm not someone you want to put anything on hold for."

"Let me be the judge of that," Connor said firmly.  Then he sighed and leaned forward again. "I don't have much else going on in my life outside of this job.  I'm not beating them off with a stick either. And even if I was, you're the one I'd want. You're worth waiting for, to me.  It's not just the sex."

"No it's not," Hank agreed.  "If it was just the sex, we wouldn't be talking about ... how we really can't do anything outside of class.  Have to basically pretend like - Like there isn't anything."

"We do," Connor said with a nod.  "We - There's - If at any point, there's someone you - I'm not saying you have to tell me-"

"On the extremely unlikely event that someone else pops up who seems like a better catch than you, I'll find a way to let you know before I do anything.  I owe you that much."

"You don't owe me anything.  But the same goes, it's highly unlikely but if something starts to happen ..."

"And once things - once I'm not a student anymore.  If you're still interested-"

"It'll be hard not marking my calendar for the day you graduate."

Hank let out a soft laugh that did all sorts of fun things to Connor's insides.  "But until then - we just pretend like there's nothing. No communication outside the boundaries of class."

"And as tempting as it is," Connor said with a sad smile "I won't be visiting Markus' studio, either."

"That something you do sometimes?"

"It's been known to happen, usually a supply drop.  But I'll make sure he calls someone else, you don't need to be-"

"Yeah I know, and seeing you is gonna overcome any nervousness.  Bad enough when I've got clothes on."

The silence stretched and Hank finally nodded.  "There, uhm. Doesn't seem to be much more to say.  I already knew coming back to school at my age wasn't gonna be easy.  Didn't figure it would be this difficult, though."

Connor almost said something about how difficult it had always been for him, and this was very nearly unbearable.  But Hank stood, and Connor followed suit. "I'll see you in class," he tried to put on his best professional voice.

"See you - Professor." Hearing Hank use his title for the first time broke something inside him and he just wanted to curl up and cry. Four years of this. But at the end, there'd be Hank. He could do this.  For Hank he could do this job for another few years.

He couldn't bring himself to speak and just nodded, watching as Hank collected his bag, stood, and left the office.  Unlike last time, there was no gaggle of other students waiting and Connor had time to get his emotions back under control.


	6. ... and all the rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and now the rest of the story (all of it!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this chapter by chapter but Life happened and it got to be so long I just want to be *done* so here's all the rest of it.
> 
> A few more typos and stuff than usual but I really am ready to be d o n e!

_ "-at if we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine? Nothing could keep us apar-" _

Connor growled and slapped the snooze button before sitting up. Why  _ that _ song? After making sure it wouldn't taunt him again, Connor stood and made his way to the bathroom.

As he dried, he knew the hardest part of the day would be Hank. In a strange way, he wanted to thank the older man. With Hank throwing such a monkey wrench into Connor's emotions, it was actually making the minutiae of being a professor a little more bearable.

Because classes, papers, grading, they were all still tedious as ever, but at least they kept him from thinking about wanting to sleep with a student. And all of it was now easier than trying to teach a class with Hank in it. How he had survived Monday, Connor wasn't quite sure. Getting off the phone had been a special kind of hell.

Tuesday, at least, had given him some space to get himself back to some kind of right before seeing him again.

Connor suspected to the point of being certain that Hank would show up at his office hours again, and for much the same reason. This was not something they should be doing. No texts or phone calls. Certainly no more meeting up, and no office meetings. Unless Hank needed to see him about something in the class, but considering that he'd been  _ a cop _ he doubted there was anything Connor could actually teach him.

It wasn't until he was almost out the door that he realized he'd unconsciously donned one of his more colorful shirts. It wasn't near Hank's level of boldness, but it was noticeably more starkly patterned than most of his other shirts. He'd worn it a few times over the years but he wasn't sure he'd ever worn it to class, preferring to keep a more serious wardrobe.

After changing, he didn't have any choice but to grab some gussied up french vanilla coffee from the break room. Grimacing at the too-sweet flavor, he made it to his classroom just a few minutes before his first students

It was just enough time to put on his easy-going, unflappable, not-as-scary-as-my-brother-haha professor game face on. The first class went smoothly enough, but of course - Hank wasn't in it.

Hank was in his second class, and avoiding looking at him was the most difficult part. Unfortunately, Hank actually had a fair bit to offer this time, so Connor - luckily or unluckily, he couldn't decide - had plenty of excuses to look his way.

One student approached with a quick question which saved him from watching Hank depart.

The class after Hank was a lot easier if a lot duller.  Luckily for Connor it was followed by lunch with Markus.

"You decent?" Connor called as he opened Markus' front door.

"Never! I am dressed, though," Markus called from the kitchen.

"Whatever you're doing smells good."  Connor set his briefcase down and settled into Markus' kitchen chair.

"Since I actually have a nice chunk of time for lunch, I made chicken Kiev."

"Simon coming?" Connor was still getting to know Markus' boyfriend, not a professor but a librarian here.

"No, he's got a thing, and I wanted to talk to you alone, we haven't had a chance since the other night."

Connor grimaced a little, recalling his panic over Hank.  "He, uh, he actually called right after I left here," he admitted, picking at his shirtsleeve.  It reminded him of his near emulation of the older man because he'd been on his mind this morning.

"How'd that go?"

Markus was careful to keep his voice neutral but Connor knew he was oversensitive about it.  "Nothing happened. I mean-" He pushed his hands through his hair. "It just - I like him. It's not just the sex anymore, we talked and it felt  _ nice _ . I know compared to Ni I'm a social butterfly but I'm not always that good around new people."

"I know.  And you know if anything does happen, you can tell me right? And not just because I want to know what my best friend is up to, but just in case I have to cover your ass."

Connor gave a smile at that.  "The offer is appreciated but I think we'll manage.  We just have to agree no more calls, no more ... Anything," He suddenly felt the weight of everything sitting on his chest.  The job he hated more with every passing year. The perfect weekend that was turning into perfect agony. 

"And the only way to make sure you both agree to that is to meet up and talk about it." Markus said as he turned the stove off and began plating up.

"Yep.  Oh, this looks yummy," Connor's spirits lifted at the artfully arranged plate.  Unlike some pretentious chefs, artfully in this case just meant pretty - it wasn't two lumps of goo and a brightly colored drizzle.  And it looked amazing.

They tucked in, eating quietly for a few minutes until Markus spoke again. "I don't know if you heard, one of my models got hurt."

"Ouch, are they gonna be okay?"

"Should be, but broken hip at eighty two can be dicey.  She's recovering nicely and her wife is fussing endlessly.  Which actually left me needing a nude model on short notice."

At first, the pause just had Connor glancing at Markus, then back at his plate.  Then he looked back up at his friend. There was something fiendishly gleeful in his eyes. Connor began to get a sinking feeling.   _ "No..." _

"He's perfect!" Markus actually giggled and Connor flicked a pea at him.

"I know he's perfect! Gah! And he agreed, didn't he?"

"Stopped by the office to sign the paperwork this morning.  So you've talked  _ at length _ about him, but I have one semi important question, since he'll be modeling nude."

Connor's groan almost drowned out the last word.  FInally he sat up and fixed his friend with a hard stare.  "If you want to know anything you've got to say the words."

"Knowing you and what you like and how satisfied you were, how big is his dick?"

"I never actually saw it soft,"

"You slut!" Markus laughed and Connor found himself joining him.

"Seriously, on a normal sized guy, what he's packing might be a bit excessive but on  _ him _ it's just right." Is this what his life was now? Detailing the size of a one night stands dick because said one night stand, also now a student, was modeling naked for his best friend?

"Good to know.  I'll have some extra drapage ready in case it becomes a problem.  Don't want him giving any of the boys a complex."

"Oh, you know as well as I do quite a few of our students could do with a complex or two."

"Okay, fair point.  He mentioned he had tattoos in class, can I get some specifics?"

"No." Connor shook his head.  "I -" He put his fork down and tried to sort out his thoughts.  "It's hard enough just seeing him in class. Talking about his dick, his ink, it's- I can't.  I need to really see him as a student. You'll see his ink well enough when he models."

"I get it," Markus reached over and gave his wrist as squeeze.  "Sorry I was poking at you, I don't imagine this is very easy."

"No, it's not," he said, giving Mark's hand a little pat.  "And I should expect poking, you're a troll and I've known that for years."

At that, Markus began singing the troll song from the Three Billy Goats Gruff.

It cheered Connor up enough that he could enjoy the rest of his meal.

His first office hours were barren, no one coming by but he kept his door open.  And he kept switching pens just to have an excuse to handle the Sumo mug.

Following his final class of the day, Connor once again had his back to the door when the light shifted as someone stood in the doorway.  Only one person was big enough to block that much light.  

Hank didn't say anything this time, either, and Connor waited until he heard the door close and the chair creak before he turned around, not trusting his face otherwise. 

"I shouldn't have called," Hank finally said.  

"I actually called you," Connor pointed out as he sat back, trying to mirror Hank's more relaxed pose.

"Only because I asked.  Point stands, though, it's- I feel like- This-" Hank leaned forward, gesturing between the two of them. "This isn't nothing."

"No it's not." Connor swallowed and set his hands on the desk, then drew his attention to the mug by dropping another pen into it.  "It was getting too distracting in class," he explained why he'd repurposed it. He knew he should probably give it back, but he had no intention of doing so.

"Like I said the other night, I got nothing left to lose but I don't wanna risk messing things up for you."

That just made Connor want to give Hank something to lose - namely himself.  But that was the whole point, he -  _ they _ weren't an option right now.  "I appreciate that. I don't like that we can't ... explore things." He knew he was talking long term - but he felt a rightness around Hank that was as thrilling as it was unfamiliar.  "At least - not right now."

"I don't think we can do a summer thing, Con." Hank's eyes flashed when he said it though and he was probably having similar thoughts to Connor - what they could get up to for a few months.

"That's not what I'm suggesting.  I know we can't ... do anything about anything right now, but you'll be graduating eventually, right?"

Hank nodded, smiled, then shook his head.  "Can't ask you to wait on me, Con."

"You aren't.  I'm offering." God it would help him get through the next few years, knowing he had Hank at the end of it.  Maybe? "Unless-"

"I'm not saying  _ you _ wouldn't be worth the wait.  And it's not like I've got people lining up."

That reminded Connor and he blushed even as he chuckled.  "That's gonna change come Friday."

Hank's eyes narrowed slightly before they widened. "Professor Manfred told you?"

Connor could see Hank trying to work out why that specific fact would have come up.  "Remember I mentioned the friend that I usually cuddled up to after nights like last weekend?"

"Ah!  And does he know that - I mean that -" He gestured to himself. "I'm that guy?"

Connor nodded, his face heating up a little.  "I told him on Monday, I-I had to say something to someone, and he already knew about 'Hank from that weekend.'  I'm sorry, I know it puts you in a sticky position."

"I get it," Hank said softly.  "My point stands, though. I'm old, drank myself out of a job, I'm not someone you want to put anything on hold for."

"Let me be the judge of that," Connor said firmly.  Then he sighed and leaned forward again. "I don't have much else going on in my life outside of this job.  I'm not beating them off with a stick either. And even if I was, you're the one I'd want. You're worth waiting for, to me.  It's not just the sex."

"No it's not," Hank agreed.  "If it was just the sex, we wouldn't be talking about ... how we really can't do anything outside of class.  Have to basically pretend like - Like there isn't anything."

"We do," Connor said with a nod.  "We - There's - If at any point, there's someone you - I'm not saying you have to tell me-"

"On the extremely unlikely event that someone else pops up who seems like a better catch than you, I'll find a way to let you know before I do anything.  I owe you that much."

"You don't owe me anything.  But the same goes, it's highly unlikely but if something starts to happen ..."

"And once things - once I'm not a student anymore.  If you're still interested-"

"It'll be hard not marking my calendar for the day you graduate."

Hank let out a soft laugh that did all sorts of fun things to Connor's insides.  "But until then - we just pretend like there's nothing. No communication outside the boundaries of class."

"And as tempting as it is," Connor said with a sad smile "I won't be visiting Markus' studio, either."

"That something you do sometimes?"

"It's been known to happen, usually a supply drop.  But I'll make sure he calls someone else, you don't need to be-"

"Yeah I know, and seeing you is gonna overcome any nervousness.  Bad enough when I've got clothes on."

The silence stretched and Hank finally nodded.  "There, uhm. Doesn't seem to be much more to say.  I already knew coming back to school at my age wasn't gonna be easy.  Didn't figure it would be this difficult, though."

Connor almost said something about how difficult it had always been for him, and this was very nearly unbearable.  But Hank stood, and Connor followed suit. "I'll see you in class," he tried to put on his best professional voice.

"See you - Professor." Hearing Hank use his title for the first time broke something inside him and he just wanted to curl up and cry. Four years of this. But at the end, there'd be Hank. He could do this.  For Hank he could do this job for another few years.

He couldn't bring himself to speak and just nodded, watching as Hank collected his bag, stood, and left the office.  Unlike last time, there was no gaggle of other students waiting and Connor had time to get his emotions back under control.

+++++

After leaving Connor's office, Hank was halfway to his car when his phone chirped.   He checked it with a growl and remembered study group. Today was the first meeting, fuck.  He couldn't go home and wallow quite yet.

With a physical shake, Hank straightened up and did his best to put Connor, or at least the sitiuation, temporarily, in his  _ Awful Shit _ box.  It was how he'd learned tot handle his job over the years. Compart-fucking-mentalizing.

He was the first one to get to the cafe and recalling how well the subs had gone over, looked over their study group menu and ordered two of the sandwich platters.  Probably more than the kids could put away but they could always take the rest home.

Taking a mental headcount of their expected group, Hank went upstairs and claimed one of the larger tables.  He got out his books and realized it was a bit dim - that was his excuse for not being able to read the text super clearly.  He heard North as he closed his book.

Poking his head over the railing he gave her a wave.  "I got sandwiches," he called and she gave him a thumbs up before taking her coffee and climbing the stairs to join him.

She plopped beside him and smiled.  "So I asked around, no one's free that I would trust not to be a dick, so you're stuck with me for a math tutor."

"I can cope with that," Hank said with a smile.

"I checked the study calendar and you're done with stuff by 2 on Friday?"

"I am, yeah.  I've got a thing-" The bell and some chattering distracted him for a second but the new arrivals weren't part of their group.  "I was debating not saying anything just to see the look on your face, but since you're kindly tutoring me I'll give you a heads up.  You mentioned you're taking Manfred's drawing class on Friday?"

"Yeah ... No!" She laughed as she put it together.  "I heard something happened to Shelagh, but not who the replacement was.  "Shit! Well, that's gonna be interesting."

"Not awkward?" He was glad she seemed to be as chill about it as he expected.

"If you looked more like Chloe Kamski there might be some awkwardness but no, you and I are cool."

"Very good to know," he smiled and took a sip of his coffee.

While they waited for the others, they went over his feeble attempts at his math homework, and she offered him her notes from when she'd taken the class.

Once everyone was settled and the first platter of sandwiches had vanished, they settled into the actual purpose of the group.  A few weren't in his exact class but everyone had English with "The Doctor."

At around eight, after discussing the planned papers through the year and how they would support one another, they parted ways.  Hank offered to drive them back to their dorms, the girls accepted which told him a lot. Some things never changed.

On the highway, Hank first blasted music to help keep him distracted.  Then his head throbbed and he had to turn it down. Running through his various classes, things he had to remember, even his shopping list took up some time, but not enough mental space.

By the time he arrived home, his compartmentalizing had failed and he had a bottle of Black Lamb tucked into a bag, as yet unopened.

"Hank!" He had his key almost in the lock when he heard Kara's cheery voice.  

He took a deep breath and put on his best game face.  "Hey, Kar," he said, giving her a wave, but he knew his voice didn't have his usual enthusiasm.  Thankfully, the hour meant Alice should be asleep, and he could tell her bedroom light was off.

When she ducked inside, he thought they were one and he jammed his key into the lock, just wanting to crawl inside the bottle and forget about things for a while.  Forget about how much it hurt walking away, how much he knew they'd neve-Connor would find someone better. And good for him, he deserved better than a washed up old has-been.

"Hank!" Kara's voice was closer this time and he pushed the door open as he looked up.  She had a plate. "I made spaghetti, saved you a plate," she said with a smile when she reached him.

"Thanks," he said, managing a smile.  She really was a sweetheart. "I've had a long day, I'll bring the plate back tomorrow?" He was too old and too tired to pretend he wasn't a drunk holding a bag with a liquor store logo.

"Sure.  If you need anything, Hank," she gave his arm a squeeze before heading back to her place.

Once inside, Hank shoved the plate into the fridge and twisted open the bottle.  "Hey, buddy," he greeted his dog after taking a few swallows. It burned down his throat and he tried to drown that with a few more swallows.

It wasn't until he set the bottle down at last that he remembered standing here around a week ago.  Connor's arms around him, soft lips and cheek against his back. "Fuck." Hank scrubbed at his eyes. He knew the bedroom would be even worse so he flopped on the couch, a place he'd spent entirely too much time after Cole's death.

He spilled a little when he took another few swallows but it was already hitting him and he was beyond caring.  Sumo nuzzled his hand and gave it a sniff before sitting and resting his head on Hank's thigh. "Goo'boy," hank mumbled.

He wasn't proud of himself, and knew this could fuck everything up, but he was tired of hurting and didn't think it was going to be getting any easier for a while.  Just tonight, he promised himself. Just to ride out the pain of ... Ffuck, was it a breakup? Felt like one.

Another few swallows and he breathed wrong, sitting up suddenly as he tried to cough the whiskey out of his lungs.  When he could breathe again, his throat and lungs were on fire.

Hank stared at the bottle on his hands and had just enough willpower left to lean forward and set it on the coffee table with a sharp crack of glass on glass.  Sumo nudged his hand when he sat back and Hank ruffled one ear, scratching gently.  

Throat too raw to say anything, he just stood and made his way to the bedroom.  Undressing, he soon sprawled on the bed and fell into a deeply uneasy sleep.

The next morning he stayed under the shower spray until it started to run cold, then icy.  He'd've stayed until the water ran the fuck out if it wasn't for Sumo.

While he watched Sumo inspect his yard, Hank slowly poured out the remains of the bottle.  He'd only drunk about a quarter of it, and he was strangely proud of that. Waking up, he figured he'd only have that much  _ left _ .

He felt bad for having blown Kara off, she really did care about him.  After he ate the spaghetti, he washed the plate and attaches a note. It was a promise to fire up the grill that weekend for her, Luther, and Alice.

He also apologized and thanked her for her concern.

When he was on the road, his head was still pounding but a full belly and some coffee were helping.

First class, he finally gets to meet the mysterious and elusive button-pusher Professor Reed.

The professor apologized for Tuesday but offered no explanation, and they aren't owed one.  But kids are shits and when they pushed, they were reminded that it's none of their business and he just plowed ahead with class.

After History, Hank checked his messages, the study group mostly just chatter and then he thumbs a private message from North.  She talked to Kamski and she won't give him shit during class since he's already being tutored. He'd still have to hand in his homework but he had extra time since he was having to catch up.

For lunch, he met up with North, his offer of buying being accepted.  They sat on the hood of his car outside the sub shop - he'd given in and gotten one of their buy so many get a freebie card.   "So, I don't know if I specified but I'm not expecting the tutoring for free."

North held up her sub. "Just keep feeding me and we'll call it square."

"I'm gonna keep feeding you anyway.  Do you need money?"

They went back and forth while they ate and eventually settled on driving lessons.  One life saving skill for another - seemed fair enough to him. He'd drive down on Saturdays and pick her up for a few hours of lessons, unless something came up and they had to change it around.

After lunch, they headed back into the math building and when he got his quiz back, it looked like she poured red ink all over it. At the top his grade was circled, then crossed out with a "pending" note.

He did try to pay attention, copying whatever got put on the board and jotting down what he needed to make sure to ask North about later.  Which, in fairness, was everything.

Waiting for art theory, Hank gave his math homework a poke but none of it made sense so he got his history homework done.

This time when he stopped on the drive home, he picked up steaks, corn on the cob, and the fixings for s'mores as well as sausage and a few other grillable treats.  He managed not to grab any alcohol, not even a six pack for the barbecue.

Since his homework was done, instead of rattling around the house, he went and took Sumo and Alice down to the park after dinner at Kara's.  The ache of seeing Alice playing without Cole helped soothe the ache of not being with Connor.

After dropping Alice off, Hank shut down the house, got some reading done, ignoring the slight headache it gave him.  He finally fell asleep, trying not to think of how hard tomorrow would be.

The following day, Hank found that focusing on the drawing class helped keep him settled during the rest of the day.  Psych was easy enough, so far it was proving to be the easiest class by virtue of playing into his experiences, and not having Connor.

Criminology was ... less fun, but the topic was engaging enough and Hank was able to give some input.  He tried to behave and only offer answers if no one else seemed to know. Those little smiles Connor flashed him when he did participate did funny things to his heart.

Hank braved the cafeteria for lunch and decided in favor of not trying it again.  It wasn't bad but he could afford better food.

English was weirdly fun.  The doctor looking like Connor didn't phase him any more because his manner was so different.  The discussion focused on semi fictional books, books drawn heavily from real life people or events, but with fictionalized details.  Since True Crime books were predominantly this, Hank had plenty to say.

After English, he met up with North and they began going over his math detriments.  When the numbers gave him a headache after a few hours, they stopped. He instead began to quiz her on driving, glad to find she had a learners permit already, just no one to teach her.  

"Mom tried when I was younger, but her teaching style and my learning style didn't work so we agreed to never ever try again.  And I refuse to shell out hundreds for an instructor."

"I remember when driving classes were mandatory to graduate high school."

"You sure you don't remember back when you got one free with the car?"

Hank laughed"No but my mom didn't even need a photo when she got hers.  Her sister stole her ID all the goddamn time," he shook his head.

Since it was all in the same complex and traffic was minimal, he had her drive them from the library where they'd been working to the studio.  "How much of this is for practice, and how much is because you don't know where it is?"

"Just drive, smartass," Hank laughed.

North was perfect for getting him in the right relaxed state for getting naked in front of a crowd.

Thankfully the actual getting naked portion was done privately and Professor Manfred soon had him arranged on a backless couch with a few pillows.  He felt somewhat scrutinized every time the professor took a step back to examine his positioning, but finally he seemed satisfied.

The influx of art students was almost anticlimactic, which just put him at ease. North gave him a smirk and a raised eyebrow and he grinned for a second before getting his face back under control.

The hardest part, he learned, was what to do with his thoughts for a few hours of just sitting there like a bump on a log.  Thankfully he wasn't much of an exhibitionist so  _ that _ wasn't a concern. even stray thoughts of Connor were too emotionally tangled right now to do anything more than make his chest tight.

He mostly occupied his time thinking of the barbecue.  He considered inviting North but there was the question of getting her home.  Maybe she could crash on the couch. He certainly had enough. He'd run it by her when he came down the next day for lessons.

The class was up before Hank knew it and he managed to keep his position until the students were gone.  Once the door closed behind the last one he flopped onto his back and stretched. "Fuck that was harder than I thought it would be," he admitted with a laugh, flexxing and carefully stretching.

Professor Manfred chuckled "It can be a bit frustrating at first," he agreed.  "I'd recommend a soak when you get home."

"Maybe.  That's an hour's drive though so I might just climb into bed." He dressed quickly once he felt less stiff.  "How'd I do?"

"Pretty good, and the students were doing some very nice work. They like having unique models and you're as good as I'd hoped."

After confirming for the following week, Hank drove home, too tired to even think of stopping for a drink.  His compromise was a hot shower once he got home, then climbing into bed.

+++++

Connor was elbow deep in grading homework on Friday when his phone rang. Answering it absently he grunted "Yeah?"

"Connor, that's no way to answer the phone. What if I had been the department chair?"

Connor pinched the bridge of his nose and took a slow breath. "Good evening, Mother."

"I trust you're doing well." Connor could picture her, a cream or tan colored pant suit, or maybe one with a skirt - nothing too flirty, of course, all very professional. Her nails would be kept short and neatly trimmed, only ever painted for special occasions.

"Pretty well, yeah. Just going over my students homework." Oh, I also slept with a student, Mother. How do you feel about that? "How are you and Father?"

"We're doing well. Your father is considering retiring."

"I'm sure the department will miss him," Connor said, jotting a note on one of the assignments.

"Of course they will. Have you spoken to Niles today?"

"Saw him briefly during lunch, why?"

"He seemed distracted when I spoke to him earlier."

Of course she'd called Nines first. Connor knew they loved him more, but sometimes he wished they wouldn't go out of their way to remind him of it. "Might have caught him mid-read."

"Perhaps. Your father wants to leave soon so I'll cut to the chase. You won't be coming home for Thanksgiving, correct?"

"That's correct." He didn't bother with explanations, they both knew why.

"Thank you. I'll talk to you later."

After they hung up, Connor tossed his pen onto his desk and sat back with a groan. His phone rang again while he was rolling his neck to ease the tension she'd caused. This time he checked the number. A part of him wanted it to be Hank despite their agreement. Instead it was Nines, which was better.

"I take it you're done with mom's call," Nines began uncharacteristically.

"Did you time it?" Connor had to laugh, already feeling a little better.

"You two don't usually have much to say to each other. Based on what she mentioned to me, I figured out how long the call would be, gave you a few minutes and called."

"You okay, she said you were distracted."

"I was. I was ... texting."

Connor could hear Nines' embarrassment and it made sense - he wasn't the sort to text. "Go on," Connor didn't bother to hide his curiosity.

"I finally confronted Gavin about his lack of response to my suggested project."

"And ...?"

"And he hadn't gotten the message at all. His cat was in some kind of medical distress so he wasn't paying any attention to work e-mails, and had even cancelled his first two days of classes to help the animal recover from surgery. He asked for my number and promised to text me once he had a chance to look at the proposal."

"At the risk of repeating myself - Aaannnd?" If Connor couldn't tell Nines about his own personal problems, he could at least be genuinely excited over his brother's potential relationship.

Nines made a giddy sound and Connor almost fell off his chair. "I believe we have a date? I-" Connor could hear the sound of Nines' phone chirp and then he giggled again. "Yes. Yes, I have a date. Saturday."

Connor gave an excited little shimmy. "Nines! That's great! Where, what will you be doing? And I assume the date is with the - how did you put it - irritating, iracable-"

"Unprofessional, yes I remember. I would appreciate if you not mention I used such unflattering terms to describe him."

"Secret's safe with me, Ni. But you didn't answer my question - date! I need details."

"You'll think it's boring."

"You're going to a museum, aren't you?"

"I told you."

"Okay, first, a museum isn't boring. Second, you're working on a history degree and you're dating a history professor. Museum date is perfect. Are you going to the Ridgely?"

"You may have a point, and yes, we're both interested in their new history of printing exhibit."

"Markus mentioned there's a cafe right by there, says it's a nice romantic little place." Connor felt a stab of longing. Even if on the off chance, he and Hank did decide to pursue something, that sort of thing was closed to them, for a number of years at least.

"I'll take that into consideration, thank you. Are you busy tomorrow?"

"No more than usual, why?"

"Would you help me get ready?"

The quiet vulnerability in Nines' voice gave Connor's chest a little kick and he nodded. "Yeah, of course. When are you going?"

"We're meeting there at nine."

"Ugh, you're lucky I love you, Nines. You better have coffee ready when I show up at 8."

"I promise. I appreciate that, thank you."

"Hey, is his pet okay?" Connor's mind drifted to Sumo and he leaned forward, fingering the fateful sumo mug. It had been too distracting to even keep in his office.

"Yes. Apparently the problem was a complication from her spay procedure but it's been corrected and she is-" Nines paused, then began to read "Resting on her pillow throne and being waited on hand and goddamn foot.'"

Connor laughed. "Okay, good to hear. And good to hear you have a date, you deserve it."

"So do you, Connor. If you like, I'm sure we can find you someone compatible - I know you aren't the ivory tower type but not everyone else is either."

"That's sweet, Nines, but I'm okay. You know I do my little... thing when I need to, and that does it for me. I have friends the rest of the time."

"I suppose. I shouldn't push, but I - I like him, Connor. I had lunch with him yesterday, and we texted for an hour today. He only had to go because her highness was due at the vet for a follow up."

"I'm happy for you, I really am. You can gush more about him tomorrow, okay?" He offered.

"I may do that. Thank you."

They chatted a bit more, then hung up. Knowing he wasn't going to finish is grading, he finally texted Markus. [How did your drawing class go?]

Connor then went to shower and change into some pajamas before he got an answer. [Very well, he was as good a model as I expected. When Sophie's better, I might see if he'll still model for another class.]

[That's good.] He shouldn't have brought it up, he knew that. But sometimes Connor poked at wounds. It was why he still answered when his parents called. [You seeing Simon?]

[Yeah, we're making dinner.]

Connor glanced at the cluck. It was only 8, why did he feel so tired? Right. Mother. And Hank, and Nines and- [I should let you go then.]

[Hey, you gonna be okay?]

Connor sighed and wished he knew. [Yeah, I'll be fine! Going to Nines tomorrow morning to help him get ready for a date.]

[A date?! With who?]

[Gavin Reed if you can believe it.]

[Weirdly I can. He's got the kind of energy Nines needs I think.]

[Hopefully you're right.]

[You sure you're okay? You can come over if you want, we'll keep you company.]

Markus was so sweet but Connor really didn't think he could handle such a happy couple right now. [I'm already in my PJ's - mother called earlier and I'm exhausted already.]

[If you change your mind, you're always welcome.]

[Thank you. See you later.]

Connor turned his phone off and flopped onto his back with a sigh. Feeling very old fashioned, he reached over and set his alarm clock for 7 the following morning. It normally didn't go off on the weekends at all.

That night, like most nights the last few weeks, Connor dreamt of Hank.

It was a very pleasant dream. When he woke, all he could remember was the feeling of being wrapped snugly in strong arms, and the smell of flowers.

He pulled on some clothes and headed out to Nines house, wishing his brother had opted for faculty housing. But then, their parents had always lived off campus. Connor could but he didn't want to spend the money.

Despite his bitching, he knew Nines would be a bundle of nerves so he stopped by a coffee shop and got them both hot chocolate - Nines had a sweet tooth a mile long and Connor knew it would put him in a good mood for his date. God, Nines had a date.  _ NINES! _ And here Connor was, pining over the  _ one _ person on earth that he both wanted, and couldn't have.

When Nines answered his door, Connor saw his judgement call was correct - barely 8 and he already looked frazzled. "Drink," Connor said, handing over his brother's hot chocolate as he stepped into the house.

"I've showered but I can't decide what to wear."

"The robe gave that away, what have you-Woah." Connor had never seen Nines' room in such a state of disarray. Not even during his "chaotic" teen years. Compared to most, it was still neat, but Connor could see three separate outfits on the bed, haphazardly where he'd apparently tried them on and discarded them.

"Thank you for coming," Nines said sincerely, taking a swallow of hot chocolate, then gasping at the heat.

Conor decided not to tease him about that. "You're really into him, aren't you?" Connor asked with a smile as he began flipping through Nines' wardrobe.

"He called after I got off the phone with you," Nines admitted, moving to sit on his bed.

Connor frowned after he finished his perusal, then turned to get a good look at his brother. "You know, it's barely noticeable anymore," he said honestly. Nines had a birthmark on his neck, near the bottom of his throat and he'd gotten teased about it mercilessly as a child. To this day he wore turtlenecks and high collar shirts only to cover it up. It had been a lot darker in their youth but faded now and was no darker than a freckle.

Nines closed his robe over it and gave a little shrug. "I know. I'm still more comfortable not showing it,"

"Okay," Connor nodded, not wanting to push the issue. "Now, he usually wears t-shirts and hoodies right, sometimes plaid?"

"Yes. I don't have - anything along those lines."

"No but you pull off a similar look." Connor wasn't much of a fashionista but he liked to look good. He pulled out one of Nines short sleeved shirts. It wasn't quite a turtleneck but it had a higher collar than most. He hung it on Nines' closet, then found a dark blue shirt. He held it up to the turtleneck and shook his head.

"That looks good though."

"It's too dark, are  _ all _ of your turtlenecks black?"

"It makes dressing much simpler."

"We're getting you some different colors, they can all be muted or whatever but you need more than just black. Ahah!" Connor found, in the very back, a blue and white check.

"Where did you even find that?" NInes asked as he stood.

"It's actually mine, from when I helped you move in," Connor reminded him as he took the shirt off the hanger and wrapped it around the turtleneck.  He'd worn it over a tank top and the shirt had come off in the heat. Nines had washed it and it just migrated into his closet when neither of them were especially fussed about getting it back to its owner.

"That ... actually looks nice," Nines admitted once Connor was done.

"Thanks. It's gonna look even better  _ on _ you. Pick some jeans and go get dressed," Connor instructed as he handed him the hanger and plucked the hot chocolate from his hand.

While Nines was dressing, Connor went through his belts and selected one with a silver buckle and grommets that would break up the darkness of his jeans and turtleneck.  

When Nines emerged, Connor handed the belt over, taking a few gulps of his own cooled down hot chocolate while Nines put it on.  "You're not wearing your hair like that."

"There's nothing wrong with my hair, Connor."

"Nothing  _ wrong _ with it but it's the same way you always wear it." He nodded to the bed and ducked into Nines' bathroom to grab his comb.  "Don't worry, I'm not gonna make you look like me either. You're lucky, you got mother's hair, I got father's hair." 

"Dad has very nice hair," Nines pointed out.

"Father has very curly hair, and he needs a ton of product to make it look nice.  I know because so do I."

He leaned down, first aggressively uffling Nines' hair, ignoring his protests.  Once it looked a little floofier because of it, he began to comb it into shape. At school, Nines kept it either brushed straight back, or with a slight part, but always carefully maintained and professional looking.

By the time Connor was done, he looked much more casual without a  huge amount of change. Instead of hair going straight aside from the part, it flopped onto his forehead a little.  Nines pushed it back but it flopped right back down. "Leave it!" Connor swatted his hand gently when he tried again.

"Go take a look," Connor urged as he stood back.

Nines ducked into the bathroom and when he came back, he gave Connor a shy smile.  "Thank you."

Connor looked up from checking the weather with a smile.  "You're welcome. One more thing," He stood and began to roll up Nines' sleeves.  "Gonna be a nice warm day, and you've got nice forearms."

"They're nothing special."

"If he doesn't say something about them, I'll grade your next assignment."

"You have a deal," Nines chuckled, then fussed with his collar and shirt for another moment once Connor was done.

Finally they left the house, Nines locking up behind them.  They chatted on the way to their cars, then parted ways.

+++++

Hank watched as North carefully pulled into one of the parking spaces in front of the Walmart, between two other cars.  She wasn't comfortable on the road yet, but over the past few weekends, he'd been having her practice parking.

"I've actually got to get a few things, can you come in with me? It's stuff on high shelves," She asked, tipping her head sideways and batting her eyelashes playfully at him.

Hank groaned.  "Okay, fine, I'll be your ladder," he chuckled as they climbed out of the car.

Once inside, she grabbed his arm and dragged him across the front of the store, in front of the bank of registers.  He got a sinking feeling that he'd been hoodwinked somehow.

"Hi Mom!" North called, waving to a woman in the white coat in the vision center. 

"North-" Hank began to protest.

"You can barely read the math book," she pointed out as they drew to a stop in front of the vision center front desk. "You get headaches in study group when we work from the text.  Plus I made you an appointment, and you're too sweet to waste my time  _ and _ my mom's," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and gave him a look that just  _ dared _ him to argue.

Hank knew when he was beat and let out a sigh. "Okay, fine." She was right, he wouldn't waste what she'd taken such care to set up, even if he was fairly sure she was wrong.  The text was just unreasonably small, and filled with all manner of symbols that didn't belong in math.

"You must be Hank, I'm North's mom, Janet." The white coated woman introduced herself with a smile.

"That's me," he smiled back, taking her hand in a brief squeeze.  "My eyes were fine when I left the force, they can't have changed much in the last few years," he said as he followed her back to the exam room.

There followed a parade of dots, arrows, tiny houses, this one or that one with impreceptable differences, letters, numbers, and playing pirate by covering up one or the other eye.

"If it makes you feel better," she began, sitting at her desk in her office, Hank parked across from her.  "You don't need a very strong prescription, but from what you and North have told me, and your exam bears this out, you should probably be wearing glasses full time.  At the very  _ least _ for reading."

Hank had, unfortunately, been coming to that conclusion as the exam had gone on.  "I'm not wearing bifocals," he grumped, but manage to flash a smile.

"We have no-line bifocals, no one would know you're wearing them," she suggested.

Hank wanted to bitch and whine, but he knew she was right.  HIs eyes weren't as good as he wanted to believe they were.

In the end he settled for a pair of dark metal frames that Janet assured him looked good.  She'd even sent a picture of him to North for her approval. As a favor to her daughter, Janet was going to have them fabricated tonight, no extra charge for rushing.

"I'll just pick them up on Monday afternoon?" 

"I can have North bring them to you, if you like."

Hank nodded.  "Alright. Thanks again," he said, then headed home, since North had gotten a ride elsewhere with a friend of hers.

Sunday was uneventful, but Hank powered through his homework.  Kara had him over for dinner, and he sat with them for a while after until Alice conked out.  Since Luther was working, Hank carried her to bed. His chest ached a little when she gave him a tight hug and mumbled 'Goodnight Uncle Hank.'

Not for the first time, it took him a few drinks to get to sleep that night.  It helped him not dream of Cole so much.

He and North agreed to meet up before his first class, and she took great pleasure and putting his glasses on him.  "Oh yeah, all the girls and boys that aren't already crushing on you are gonna start now," she declared.

Hank laughed, assuming she was joking.  "Right, sure. Tell your mom I said thanks again," he adjusted them minutely and to his annoyance they really did seem to help, sharpening things he hadn't realized had gone just a tad fuzzy in the last few years.

On his way to his first class, he saw one of his classmates struggling with her backpack, a diaper bag, and a carrier.   Speeding up, he caught up with her just outside the building, reaching her just as she stopped to try and redistribute everything, setting it all on the ground first.

"Can I help?" he asked, crouching automatically and ignoring the twinge in his knee as he waved his fingers at the baby.

"Get my dad out of the doctor's?" she said with a breathy laugh.  "I'm sorry, I normally have a sitter, but she has a cold, and my dad has a doctor's appointment and I'm already failing the class and-"

"Hey, Kimmy," he laid a hand on her shoulder, cutting off the increasingly frantic explanation.  "I get it, I've been there." His throat closed for a second at the memoires. "What's the little bundle's name?" He asked as he straightened, her diaper bag and backpack joining his own messenger back on his shoulder.

"David," she managed the carrier much more easily.

"If David starts fussing in class, I'll take care of him okay?"

"I can't ask you to do that!" Nevertheless, she looked grateful just for the offer.

"You're not, I'm being a pushy old man about it," he smiled when she laughed at the description.  "I already know most of what we're covering right now,"

Hank could almost hear the rumor mill powering up when he and Kimmy strode into class together, and she set the baby between them.

Professor Stern just raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything and class began.

About twenty minutes in, David began to fuss and Hank scooped him up.  A sniff proved it wasn't a diaper and he stopped fussing the moment he was picked up.  So Hank just tucked the baby against his chest with a few gentle bounces and that seemed to satisfy him.

David wound up dozing against Hank's chest for the duration of the class.  When they were dismissed, he carried him out, following Kimmy to the parking lot to meet her father.

The guy looked even younger than Hank and they soon had David tucked into his car seat. Kimmy gave him a tight hug and effusive thanks.

Hank wound up having to jog to make his next class.  Thankfully seeing Connor three times a week was getting ... not easy but less difficult.  Sometimes, he could almost convince himself that everything between them had just been an extremely potent fever dream.

After the surprise pop quiz, class proceeded as usual.  Hank noticed Connor seemed just a tad more flushed than usual, and assumed it was because he could see well enough to make the distinction now.

As had become a regular thing, Hank met up with the study group for lunch and they were buzzing.  

Two of them apparently had Dr. Mann for first period and described him as  _ giddy _ .

"Doctor Mann, the one you're all terrified of?" Hank wasn't as scared as the others but he wouldn't call the guy anything like cheerful.

"He was smiling.  Apparently he had a 'very rewarding weekend.'  He didn't name names but a 'he' was mentioned. God he was almost as cute as his brother, when he's not being a grump." the girl sighed almost wistfully.

Hank had to swallow or choke at the reminder of how cute Connor was and cleared his throat. "I'm surprised he said anything."

Conversation meandered then, with speculation as to who 'he' was, and if he was even another professor here or not.

"So I heard someone had some Big Dad Energy going on," North's comment drew Hank out of his thoughts.  "You were taking care of Kimmy's baby?"

"I'm fifty three, you guys think I haven't handled a baby before?" he asked, not ready to bring Cole up directly, and this group would latch on to any detail.

"So you just have natural BDE?" One of the boys asked and North choked on her drink.

"Ralph!" Kelly said, rubbing North's back.  "BDE Is Big Dick Energy."

"I mean, both apply." North squeaked out as she took a sip of water to soothe his throat.

"Wait, are yu two-?"

"No!" North said as Hank took his turn choking.  "No, we're not dating."

"Cuz honestly it kind of seems like you are.  You spend a lot of time together, he's down here every weekend and you two are driving around town.  And you-" the girl gestured at Hank's lap.

"She's taking one of Manfred's drawing classes and I'm the model," Hank explained.

"And the driving is exactly that - he's teaching me to drive."

"In exchange for help in not failing math.  Besides, no offence to North but she's waay too young and way too female for me."

After that, the conversation shifted to how everyone's weekends had gone.

Then Hank got to see this cheerful new Doctor Mann for himself.  Either he'd settled down a little, or they had exaggerated, because he was no longer giddy.  He was, however, decidedly more cheerful than Hank had seen him so far. Hank was itching to know why, and he knew that he could find out if he wanted.

If he was willing to make things a lot harder than they already were.   The Doctor's smile was similar to Connor's. Not exactly alike, but close enough that Hank found his chest aching a little.

Thankfully, Hank was able to go right home after that.   He tried not to drink, and he managed it, mostly. His glasses did mean his head was pounding less than usual, but he kept thinking about Cole.  

Long nights of slow pacing with his son draped against his shoulder, because he didn't want to sleep yet.  Diapers, bottles, juggling everything. 

In the end at least he managed to wait until after dinner at Kara's to start drinking.  He only stopped at seven beers because it was all he had in the house.

When he finally fell asleep, thankfully it was dreamless.

+++++

When Hank strolled into Connor's class with glasses, he almost worried he would give himself away. How could such a small change make a difference? Hank was devastating either way, but with the glasses ... Connor found he couldn't even find the start to the day's lecture.

Thankfully, one thing he'd learned was to keep pop quizzes on hand for when he had a bad day. So he whipped one out, and let the students think his sudden grin was at their groans of displeasure. And not at the smoldering over-the-glasses look Hank shot him.

By the time they were all finished, Connor had regained his composure somewhat, and was able to proceed with class as normal.

After that, the most exciting thing was fielding questions about Nines and his new cheerful leaf. The answer being basically that it was none of their business. It tickled Connor pink to see his brother looking so happy, and to know he really  _ was _ that happy. He'd spent plenty of evenings the last few weeks listening to Nines gush about Gavin.

That was his life for the next month or so, settling into the year, learning his students, and trying not to think about Hank.

On a Thursday in early October, Markus had him over for dinner.

"Have you talked to Hank lately, outside of class I mean?" Markus asked as he laid out pasta for them.

"No! Why do you even ask? I've been good." He tried not to pout but he  _ had _ been good. Granted, he'd stroked off thinking of his student quite often but he hadn't  _ done _ anything.

"I only asked because he missed class today," Markus explained. "All day."

"Maybe he just got sick," Connor thought back, he'd seemed fine on Wednesday, if a little quiet.

"Maybe."

Conversation shifted then to halloween plans and other things.

When Hank didn't turn up for classes the following day, or for his modeling session, Connor had to do something.  Calls had gone unanswered.

It was against all kinds of rules, but Connor was worried. Either Hank was just sick, and Connor could just settle himself on that. Or something else was wrong.

His stomach twisted all the way up there. FIrst he drove to the club, then the shitty hotel, trying to retrace that first night, since he didn't have any kind of address to work with. He could have gotten it from the office but the question of why would come up, and he didn't want even a whif of impropriety.

It was fully dark by the time Connor found the street he was reasonably sure was Hank's. When his headlights passed over Hank's car, Connor backed up and pulled into the driveway. He swallowed and gripped the steering wheel, remembering how things had gone the last time he was here.

Hank didn't answer the door, and the house next door looked completely dark, so Connor assumed he wasn't over there. It was just the two houses on this section of the street.  Feeling just a trifle creepy, but needing answers, Connor made his way around the house, cursing the curtains and blinds.

Since Hank was a cop, it wasn't very surprising that he kept his place private. It wasn't until Connor got to the back door that he could see into the house. What he saw had his chest clenching. "Shit!"

Hank was on his kitchen floor, not moving, in the same clothes he'd worn to class on Wednesday. "Hank!" He called as he tugged at the door. It didn't budge. In a panic, Connor drove his elbow through the window of the back door, then reached inside to unlock it. "Hank!"

Connor could smell the alcohol as soon as he got close enough to check for life. He was breathing, rough but steadily, and his pulse was fine. Connor sat back in relief. He'd been so afraid that-But it didn't seem to be a heart attack, or a stroke. Judging by the bottles strewn around, Hank had done his level best to drink himself to death.

While Connor tried to process that, Hank began to mumble. It wasn't intelligible, but Connor moved closer, gently patting Hank's cheek. "Hank, can you wake up?"

His eyes began to flutter and the mumbling got a little louder and a bit clearer. "Cole-" was the first coherent syllable Connor could hear. "Con'r?" Hank slurred as he finally opened his eyes. "Fug are you don' here?"

Connor heaved a sigh of relief as he sat back again, Hagripping Hank's arm as he helped him sit up. "You weren't in class," Connor knew it was a tissue thin excuse but it was all he had. "I was worried."

Hank scrubbed both hands over his face and then lay back down. "Been drinkin," he said. He looked around, hand reaching for a bottle but the only one that wasn't empty was out of his reach.

"I gathered that. Do you wanna tell me why?"

"Not really," Hank said, then he rolled suddenly onto his hands and knees and began throwing up.

Uncertain, and a little nauseated by the smell, Connor nevertheless crept forward and laid a hesitant hand on Hank's back. When it wasn't rejected, he rubbed in small circles, wishing he could do more.

When Hank finished, he sat up so he was kneeling and wiped his mouth on his arm. "Help me up," he grunted and Connor stood, pulling Hank to his feet, a hand on his broad chest, and another at his waist to help steady him.

When Hank tried to take a step, he only staggered and Connor moved closer, drawing one arm around his shoulder, the other around Hank's waist as he walked him towards the bathroom.

Hank didn't say anything as Connor deposited him on the edge of the tub at his mumbled request. "You can go," Hank said softly, eyes downcast.

Not sure if Connor meant the house, or just the room, he nodded, ignoring the twist in his gut as he left. As the door closed, he could hear Hank throwing up again.

Connor grimaced at the mess in the kitchen, then felt something warm, and fuzzy against his hand as Sumo came over. "Hey there," Connor smiled as he dropped to one knee. "You remember me?" Not that he expected it, but the dog just gave a whoof and padded back to his bed. At least he knew Connor wasn't a threat.

Connor couldn't leave the kitchen like this. First he gathered up the bottles and swept up the glass from the window. Then he mopped up the much more recent mess. While mopping the rest of the floor, he found a small framed photo under the kitchen table.

It was of a boy of maybe five or six, smiling brightly at the camera. It didn't take Connor long to see the resemblance. There was no evidence in the rest of the house, that Connor had seen, of the child being older. Or of the child at all, apart from this picture.

Connor heard the shower starting and set the photo on the table as he resumed his cleaning. By the time he heard the bathroom door open, followed by the bedroom door opening and closing, Connor was bagging up the bottles along with the rest of Hank's recycling.

When the bedroom door opened again, Connor was washing the handful of dishes he'd gathered from the kitchen and living room. He heard the sound of bare feet down the hall towards the kitchen. "You're still here?" Hank sounded rough, but not mean, more confused than anything.

"I couldn't leave your kitchen like that and ... I have to tape up your window, still." Connor gave his hands a shake and reached for the towel to wipe them. "I broke it to get in, I'm sorry," he said.

Hank looked over at the back door, the curtain ruffling in the night breeze. Connor had at least picked out all the shards so it was just a blank rectangle. "It's okay." Hank gave a weak smile. "You really here because I didn't show up for classes?"

"I was worried. It's not like you to not call. The one time you had to miss, you called the office and e-mailed all three of your professors." And he'd wanted to see Hank again outside of class, but he didn't dare say that.

"Probably figured out what I was up to," Hank said, still not meeting Connor's gaze.

Not even when Connor stepped close. He swallowed as Hank's freshly washed scent rolled over him. The same soap Connor used the last time he'd been here. And mint. "What happened to him?" Connor asked, figuring the son's absence was the cause of Hank's drinking, earlier in his life and now.

"I can't-Con-" Hank shook his head after a few false starts. "Let me-" he lifted his hands, resting them on Connor's shoulders. Then they slid up to his neck. "You shouldn't be here," Hank whispered, thumbs caressing Connor's jaw.

"I know," Connor admitted softly. His hands first covered Hank's, then moved to his chest. "But I was worried. I-I had to make sure you were okay."

"Not sure if I am," Hank said quietly, his hands moving to Connor's shoulders and pulling him into a tight hug.

Connor wrapped his arms tight around Hank, gripping at his back as they briefly tried to squeeze the life out of each other.

When Hank finally pulled away, he gave Connor one more squeeze and went to grab the milk from the fridge. After a sniff, he took a few gulps.

"His name is Cole. He uhm, he died five years ago yesterday." Hank set the milk back in the fridge, not looking at Connor as he spoke. "I was hoping I could ... weather it better this year."

Connor approached slowly, his heart aching for the grief he could still hear in Hank's voice. He knew he should probably leave - Hank seemed better now, at least. But he didn't want to. Not just because it was a long drive back home, but he simply didn't want to leave Hank. He'd spent the last month and a half doing his best to keep away, keep his mind off of Hank as anything other than his student.

But now he was here, and his memories of that night were so vivid, every feeling he had for Hank was slicing into him as he wrapped his arms around Hank's waist. He recalled doing this before, and just like then, Hank's hand rubbed over his arms.

"I know we agreed not to do anything ... but will you be okay if I go?" Connor whispered the words against Hank's back, thinking of the eagle that lay under his shower-damp t-shirt.

"I don't know," Hank admitted, taking a deep, shaky breath. "I should tell you I'm gonna be fine and dandy, that you can head home. But fuck me, Con, I don't want to."

"I don't want you to either," Connor squeezed tighter, shivering at that nickname. "I wanted to see you again. Really see you again."

"Come by Manfred's friday drawing class," Hank said, mirth in his rough voice.

"You have no idea how tempted I've been!" Connor admitted.

"What're we gonna do, Con?"

In the end, owing to the late hour and Hank's hangover fueled exhaustion, they wound up in bed. Connor in the clothes he'd driven up in, sans shoes, Hank in what he'd put on after his shower.

"I was driving," Hank murmured against Connor's ear once they settled down, Connor's back against Hank's chest. Connor laced his fingers with Hank's and drew his big hand up to his chest. "Nowhere special, just picking him up from a playdate. It was raining and-" Hank pressed his face against Connor's neck and Connor just pulled Hanks arms tighter around him.

"Road was slippery, some asshole was trying to pass us and - I got banged up, broken arm. Cole was- There wasn't-It was fast, at least," he whispered against Connor.

Connor wiggled just enough to loosen Hank's hold, then turned around, pulling Hank close and hugging him tightly.

Hank didn't argue or protest, he just let Connor hold him close as he wept. His arms locked tight around Connor. Connor stroked his damp hair and rubbed his back to soothe him as much as he could.

"I'm sorry about this," Hank said thickly after some time, loosening his hold on Connor.

"Nothing to be sorry about, Hank," Connor assured him. "I can't imagine what it was like for you." He wondered where the boy's mother was but this didn't feel like the time to ask.

"I started drinking after that. Arm had me on leave for a while. Wife was already gone before C-before the accident. Nothing to do but sit around the house and grieve. Drinking made everything hurt a little less. Managed to keep my job a year or two, but not even being old friends with the captain can save you when you stagger in with a hangover too many times in a row. I was lucky I had enough time to get full retirement benefits."

"I'm so sorry, Hank. I know how much being a cop meant to you. How much it still means to you." Connor really did ache for him, for the boy who'd never grow up and the man who had to live with that.

"Never actually sat down and told anyone outside of therapy. And that wasn't all at once." Hank finally drew back, gazing at Connor as he lay a hand on his cheek.

"Feeling a little better?" Connor asked, tucking Hank's hair back behind his ear, then brushing it off his temple.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah I am." He swept his hand down Connor's back. "I'd probably be safe if you headed home."

Connor picked up something warm and very familiar in Hank's gaze. "Probably. But it's pretty late," he whispered, eyes lingering on Hank's mouth.

"True. And you don't have work tomorrow, do you?" Hank whispered, his head leaning closer.

Instead of saying anything, Connor leaned forward, his hand on Hank's cheek and kissed him softly.

The kiss lingered, tender and sweet until Hank nuzzled against Connor's neck and just let out a slow, steadying sigh.

+++++

Hank's head was pounding as he stood in the kitchen.  It was the least he could expect after his little mini-bender.  God, what a fucking idiot he'd been.  

Hank heard someone coming down the hall as he poured a second mug of coffee.  On the other hand, everything hadn't been a total loss.  

"Having some deja vu," Hank murmured as Connor came up behind him and nuzzled his back.  

After Hank's breakdown the night before, they'd slept, cuddled up together and despite everything, Hank had slept better than he had in awhile.

"Me too," Connor said.  Then he started to push up on Hank's shirt.  

With a laugh, Hank tugged it off and Connor pressed himself even closer to Hank's back.  

"Better?" Hank asked, rubbing his hands over Connor's forearms.

"Mm-hmm." Connor was pressing little kisses against the eagle on Hank's back and he smiled.

This was ... nice.  It was a soft, cozy bubble they were stealing.  It couldn't last - and they sure as hell couldn't do it again.   But at least they hadn't fucked this time.

"Coffee," Hank murmured.  "Plain black, just how you like it," He said, nudging one of the mugs closer to Connor, done just how he'd done it the last time he was here.

"MMmmmm," Connor lifted his head and unwound one arm.  "Smells almost as good as you do," he said as he drew away only enough to take a sip.

Hank chuckled softly and shook his head.  "You're gonna go right to my head, Con," he said warmly.

"Good.  Your head is right where I wanna be.  Either one of 'em," that last was a bit muffled as he took another sip of coffee.

"Christ!" Hank sighed.  Then he turned and plucked Connor's coffee and set it on the counter to pull the younger man in for a tight hug.  "You know this is a bad idea, right?" he asked softly, trying to look serious but Connor always made him smile.

"I know," Connor whispered, nodding.  "I know we shouldn't but I don't wanna go yet.  I feel like we barely had any time before, but I feel like we missed out on so much already."

"Yeah," Hank nodded.  "Yeah, I know. The - what I talked about last night, that's most of what's been on my mind for the last few years.  Sorry I unloaded all that, sure it's not what you came up here for."

"It isn't what I was expecting but I didn't come up here for sex, Hank." Connor took a deep breath. "I came up because I was worried.  It's not like you to skip class."

"I know," Hank admitted with a sigh.  "I knew it was a bad idea when I started but I just ... It hurt too much, and by the time it stopped hurting I was too far in to climb out on my own.  If you hadn't shown up, I probably would have picked right back up when I came to." Hank wasn't proud of himself, but he needed Connor to know - this is what he was.  He wasn't a falling down drunk all the time like he was before, but he was still a drunk.  

He would  _ always  _ be a drunk.

"We all have our demons," Connor said.  He cupped Hank's face and kissed him very lightly, but didn't say anything more.  

The tension stretched and Connor retrieved his coffee, turning to lean back against Hank's chest.  

Hank let himself enjoy the warm, intimate feel, his arm sliding easily - too easily - around Connor's waist. "If you ever need to talk, Con," Hank finally spoke.  He'd not missed the darkness in Connor's eyes.

Connor nodded, then took another swallow of his coffee.  "You hungry?" Connor had the cheery tone of someone trying to take their mind off unpleasantries.

"I asked you that the last time you were here," Hank said with a chuckle, deciding to let it go for now.

They didn't say much as they cooked, settling on french toast, and Hank pulled his shirt back on.  It was nice. Intimate. Hank liked how easily they shared the space. Not that he didn't have a roomy kitchen, but most of the cooking and counter space was clustered together.  Connor smiled and kissed his cheek when Hank reached around him in a half hug to get something instead of just asking for it.

After, they were working on the dishes,  and Hank noticed Connor had stopped moving, hands dunked in the soapy water, face set in a pained expression.  "Connor?" he asked softly, resting his hands on Connor's shoulders.

"I hate my job," Connor said, voice tight with tears. "I hate being a professor, it's not what I ever wanted to do."

Hank could feel him trembling and moved closer, both arms wrapping around Connor's shoulders.  He didn't make him turn around, just held him and offered what support he could.  

"I told you about family pressure, and I, god, I felt like I didn't have any choice.  They were so upset when I stopped at a masters!" Connor sniffled, wiping at his face and just leaving soapy streaks.  Connor pressed a soapy hand to his mouth to stifle a quiet sob. At that point, Hank gently turned him around and held Connor to his chest, feeling his face and hands quickly soaking into his shirt.  He also felt the moment Connor broke, a quiet sob shaking his body and he held even tighter to Hank.

One hand cupped the back of Connor's head, the other just rubbed his back as Connor cried against his chest.  "I've got you, baby," he offered assuringly. Connor's arms wound around him and squeezed and Hank was suddenly glad of his bulk - there was plenty for Connor to squeeze.

Connor cried himself out fairly quickly but he stayed still, tucked against Hank's chest for a while.  

"Thank you," Connor finally whispered, his smile still a little watery when he lifted his head.  "Didn't mean to come apart like that." He grabbed a towel to wipe his eyes and dry his hands.

"It's okay.  Seems like you needed it.  ‘Specially if it's been - how long and you never said a word to anyone?"

"Almost ten years," Connor whispered, fiddling with the towel.

"Go sit down, I'll take care of this." Hank kissed Connor lightly and took the towel from him before ushering him off to the living room.

A few minutes later, Connor was petting Sumo's head in his lap when Hank approached.  "Yeah I figured he'd help," he smiled as he settled beside Connor and handed over fresh coffee.

"He's a sweetheart," Connor smiled, still petting Sumo with one hand.  "Just like his Master."

"I'd say I was a big growly bear but I don't think I can even pretend anymore, too many people know otherwise, so my cover is  _ completely _ blown." Hank was surprised at how good that felt.  Not just Connor, but most of his fellow students had seen a side of Hank he didn't think existed anymore.

Connor laughed softly.  "I hate to break it to you, but I knew you were a softie way back when you beat my ass black and blue," he pointed out with a somewhat heated grin.

"Yeah well.," Hank recalled that only too vividly and shifted in his seat.  "I'm guessing you have your reasons but why not just quit?" Hank wanted to try and keep the subject off of Connor's ass.

"Part of its just stubbornness.  I told myself I could do this if I tried hard enough and I don't want to be wrong.  At first, it was that I didn't want to disappoint my parents any more than I already had.  And then there's Nines. I- He's my little brother, and I'm so scared I'll let him down."

"Oh, Con, I don't think you've let him down.  I don't think you  _ could _ ." Hank said, his arm winding around Connor's shoulders.  "He's plenty fond of you from what I've seen. Every time you come up in class, he smiles.  Sometimes it's just a little one, but lately, he's been smiling a lot more." Hank had his suspicions as to why, but had declined to share them with the other students.  If he was right, they were very much off the mark.

"Yeah, he has, hasn't he?" Connor said, shifting to lean against Hank and sip his coffee. 

Speaking of smiles, Hank caught Connor's lips curving into one.

"Not gonna tell me are you?" Hank asked, giving Connor's neck a light, teasing tickle.

"You're a cop, I wanna hear your evidence first." Connor ducked away from Hank's fingers with a soft laugh.

"Subject began exhibiting altered behaviour approximately one month ago," Hank began in his best noir detective voice.  "When questioned, a second party was mentioned, but no further details were offered."

"But you're a better detective than that, you haven't noticed anything else?" Connor teased, leaning around Hank to set his coffee on the end table.

"Oh, I’ve noticed a few things," he chuckled softly.  "I feel almost creepy for having noticed them. But I'm a cop, you spend thirty years being a cop, you automatically pick up on things in a scene that don't belong."

"Tell me what you noticed, I'll tell you how off base you are or if you aren't."

Hank chuckled. "Oh, is that it, I gotta earn the gossip?" He grinned, fingers carding gently through Connor's hair.

"Only because I know you can do it."  Connor leaned close enough to press a kiss to the side of Hank's chin.

Hank almost made a crack about how teacher-like that sounded, but didn't think it would go over well right now.  "Okay, so your brother likes turtlenecks. Like a lot. I'm pretty sure I've never seen him wear anything *but* a turtleneck."

"You're not wrong, he always wears them," Connor said softly.

There was a story there but Hank didn't wanna pry - not right now at least.  "He also has a brown leather jacket that he hangs on the back of his chair. I tend to sit at the edges of a class, so I can actually see behind his desk.  Which means I happened to notice the one day it was a different brown jacket. Not very different, but this one had gathered cuffs and a different shoulder, a sort of V going down the arm, not just a sleeve attached to a vest."

"That ...  _ is _ almost a creepy level of observation," Connor chuckled.

"The reason why I recognized that jacket and remember it so well is another one of my professors has one that is uncannily like it.   That same professor showed up in a  _ slightly _ oversized turtleneck last week, too."

Connor let out a giddy laugh.  "Sounds like you know who it is," he teased, pressing another kiss to Hank's chin, this one closer to his mouth.

"Your brother is dating - and no one else seems to have a clue, by the way - Professor Reed."

Connor laughed and pressed a kiss to Hank's lips.

Hank hadn't been expecting that, and he was kissing back almost instantly.  "I guess I got it right," he whispered, his hand cupping Connor's head.

"You did," Connor agreed.

Before Hank could stop him, he had a lap full of the young professor.

"Connor," Hank half protested even as he squeezed Connor's hips.  "We shouldn't," His words were not helped by the fact that he was already moving his hands under Connor's shirt.

"I know," Connor breathed against his lips.  "I know, but- I'm here." He slid his hands into Hank's hair. "Just this once.  And then not again until-" He sighed. "Until we can. Whenever that is. Please, Hank. Let me?" 

Hank's mouth was open to protest, but the pleading in Connor's face, the need in his own body, and the ache in his chest.  He pulled Connor close and kissed him, hard and deep and felt that slender body melt against his.

It was even better than he remembered.

Last time they hadn't known each other, they'd been two strangers just seeking some kind of comfort before going to cope with the world. This time things were completely different.

Hank managed to get Connor's shirt off before they got up and stumbled into the bedroom after Sumo tried to help.  He'd nosed against Connor's back, causing the younger man to jump half off of Hank's lap.

In the bedroom, it was a race to finish undressing. Then Hank finally had Connor under him again.  This time he had nothing to prove and Connor wasn't demanding to be taken out of his head.

Hank kissed and bit his way down Connor's body. Then revelled in his moan as Hank took him into his mouth.   

Connor moaned appreciatively as Hank took his sweet time lavishing attention on the younger man's cock.

"Hank!" Connor called out, rocking up into his mouth even as he tried to hold still.

Hank just chuckled and gripped Connor's hips, holding him still as he continued.  He drew back slowly and slurped at the head for a moment. "You're young enough to have more than one round in you."  His beard nuzzled against Connor and had him wiggling and gasping.  

Connor's hands clenched in Hank's hair but he seemed more inclined to pull him closer than push him away.  "And besides, I happen to know you like getting fucked after you come," Hank pointed out wickedly.

"Oh god! Hank! Please!" Connor babbled as Hank got back to work.

Hank was finally rewarded, Connor crying out his name before flooding into his mouth.  Sucking gently and swallowing, Hank then slid up to lay beside Connor, stroking his slender chest as the younger man panted.

"That was amazing," Connor whispered, tugging Hank in for a kiss, slow and deep.  "Thank you."

Hank smiled at the kiss, wanting to say 'any time' but that would just be a reminder of just how wrong he was.  So, he stroked Connor's jaw and kissed him again.

Last time, Connor had been face down. Both during preparation and then during the sex.  This time Hank wanted to see his face. See those soft brown eyes go dark when one finger, then two pressed their way into Connor's body.

"Been-" Connor gasped when Hank's fingers brushed his prostate.  "Been a long time since I had sex with someone  _ again _ ,"  he admitted.

Hank leaned down, giving Connor a slow, tender kiss.  "I'm flattered, baby. Last time with you was ... Honestly the first sex I'd had in years.  I was too drunk for a long time," His hand kept working as he spoke, easing Connor's body open for him.  "Then I was too busy recovering."

"How'd I get so lucky that night, then?" Connor pressed down, wiggling his hips eagerly. 

Hank accommodated him by pushing a third finger in.

"I was about to start classes with a whole bunch of pretty teens and twenty-somethings," Hank admitted.  "Lotta parts of me are breaking down, but my dick isn't one of them."

"Thank god!" Connor laughed, his hand stroking Hank's hair, the one that wasn't holding his leg up.

"Wanted to find some pretty thing, fuck him into the mattress so I wouldn't be tempted to chase after my classmates.  Or have my ego decimated by a whole night of rejection, which would have also kept me in line," he chuckled.

"I'm glad you settled for me, then," Connor pulled Hank down for a kiss.

"Settle my  _ ass _ ! God, you look pretty like this, baby." Hank was panting when the kiss ended, his fingers pushing easily into Connor, now. 

 "I'm ready, Hank!  _ Please _ " Connor whined.

Hank chuckled as he withdrew his fingers.  He slicked up his cock and nudged against Connor's slick, hot entrance and began to push in.  "You're gorgeous, baby. Hell, half my study group's hot for you," he added.

Connor gave himself over to a long moan as Hank filled him.

There wasn't much talking after that.  They were both too busy kissing, moaning, or gasping as Hank did his level best to fuck Connor into next week. 

Hank felt Connor's blunt nails on his back when he fucked him just so and made a point to do that again, and again, and again.  This was their last time. Hank wanted to  _ feel _ it, and he wasn't gonna have a well used ass like Connor would.

Much to Hank's satisfaction, Connor didn't take long getting hard again.  Hank picked up the pace, and he could nails starting to break skin.  

When Hank finally came, Connor did as well, the two groaning into each other's mouths as Hank flooded into Connor.

Later, after they washed up and tucked under the covers, uncaring of what time of day it was, Hank had his arms around Connor, nuzzling his freckled shoulder.  "If you weren't a professor, what would you wanna be?" he asked gently.

"A cop.  I mean, I'm too old now, but I'd want something - I like crime solving." He sighed.  "Maybe I could go ahead, get a doctorate, go into forensics."

"Might not be too old to be a cop, baby," Hank said quietly.  "I mean there were some thirty-somethings when I was applying, back in the day."

"Yeah, but that was what, fifty years ago?" Connor's mirth was unmistakable.

It earned him a gentle slap on his hip.  "Hey now, be nice to the old guy with the big dick," Hank said and they both laughed.

"My point is the rules have changed, whenever I look into it - usually on behalf of a student - they make it clear they want youngsters only."

Hank didn't like that, and it didn't sound quite right.  Still, he didn't want to say anything, didn't wanna get Connor's hopes up.  Some recruiting officers were straight up assholes, but Hank wasn't sure he had any pull at all in the department any longer. "Just don't like someone I care about being miserable most of the day," Hank admitted.

"It's ... I don't hate the whole thing.  I like most of my coworkers, most of my students.  But I hate ... I hate punishing people because they don't do a thing just right.  Doing the same thing every year. I hate seeing other students like I was - forced into a mold that doesn't suit them.   I mean, I hate grading papers and all that but I think everyone does. Except maybe Nines," Connor gave a breathy chuckle.

"Is the aggravation worth the money, baby?" Hank finally asked.

"I have to believe it is," Connor sighed.

"Can you just … leave? Get some other job, might not pay as much but you won't be torturing yourself." And Hank could support him a little, but he put that thought aside.

"Contract.  I can leave for medical reasons but otherwise I'm stuck till the end of the year, even if I gave notice tomorrow."

"And you're not the type to let job performance slip just so they'll fire you."  Hank still felt a old swirl of dusty guilt at having done exactly that himself.

"Neither are you, Hank.  I know what you told me last night, but I'm putting that down to *really* extenuating circumstances."

"You're too good to me, Con." Hank sighed, holding Connor tight.

"No I'm not," Connor shook his head.  "If I was, I wouldn't be teasing us both like this."

"Hey.  None of that, okay?  I'm a big boy, I don't do anything I don't wanna do." Hank moved back and drew Connor to turn around, resting a hand on his cheek.   
  
"I shouldn't have come up here.  It's already hard enough, and now it's gonna be fresh in our minds again and-"

Hank stopped him with a gentle kiss.  "We'll manage," he promised. "I'll start looking for places I can transfer credits to.  I'm old but I'm not so old I can't wait a few years to really make this work, if that's what it comes to."

Connor nodded, but didn't say anything else.  His mouth was set in a tight line as he tucked closer to Hank, face pressed into his neck and let Hank rub his back slowly.

+++++

Connor forced himself to leave after he'd calmed down.  He ached to stay, but he knew if he did, leaving would only get harder.  It was an even more melancholy repeat of their first parting. With the added knowledge that they would, in fact, be seeing each other again, but they wouldn't be able to do or say anything about what either if them were feeling.

He called Markus on the way home, fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel.

"Hey, Connor, how's everything going?"

"I-Mark-I-" Connor stopped and took a breath, glad he wasn't actually holding his phone.

"Oh! Shit, Connor you didn't!"

"I had to make sure he was okay!" He swallowed a lump in his throat and took a deep breath.

"Oh man, Connor." At least Markus sounded more sad than judgemental, for which Connor was infinitely grateful.  "I take it he's okay?"

"Yeah.  Yeah he- well, not my place to tell you why he missed but things will be back on track on Monday.  I need to say this to someone but I ... we ..."

"Yeah," Markus interrupted gently.  "I figured that when you didn't come back Friday night.  Are  _ you _ gonna be okay?"

"Don't have a lot of choice," he said.  "I see Nines tomorrow, and Professor Reed - the official meet the brother dinner."

"Oh man.  You want me and Simon to crash? It'll be awkward as hell but that's what friends are for."

Connor chuckled softly.  "I appreciate the offer, man, but I'll just put on my big boy britches, I'll be fine.  It's not till Sunday so I've got a whole twenty four plus hours to get my head on straight.

He heard a faint chime on Markus' side.  "Ahh, just got an email from the man himself.  Subject is Sorry about last week. You wanna do dinner tonight? Just you and me?"

"It's Saturday Night, you and Simon have that poetry thing don't you?"

"Usually, but if you need me to, SImon's really understanding."

"No.  Thank you but, I'm gonna have to spend hours with my smitten brother and his boyfriend tomorrow.  Even just you have that starry eyed, love-sick air about you when you aren't actively teaching, even when he's not around.  I don't think I can deal with that right now."

"God!" Markus laughed.  "You make me sound like an idiot teenager, but sometimes I feel like that.  I'm just ..." He let out a sigh and Connor could feel the longing.

"Yeah, I know." He felt his throat close up and swallowed it down.  "I need to let you go, talk to you later." He hung up before Markus could say anything and he knew he'd been rude but it just hurt too much.  He forced himself to keep driving, if he pulled over, he'd turn around.

By the time he got back to his house, Connor was mostly under control again.  Hank wasn't far from his mind, and knowing Markus had gotten one, Connor checked his email.

There it was, CC'd to all of his professors.  It was short and apologetic without being overly effusive.  Personal matter had come up very suddenly, unable to give notice.  A small fib about having forgotten his phone, but he promised to be fully in attendance on Monday.

Nothing else needing his attention, so Connor changed into some comfortable clothes and settled down to try and get some work done.  He opted against a shower, since he'd used Hank's shampoo and body wash again before leaving. It was stupid, and it made him hurt just a little bit more, to be reminded of what he couldn't have.  But that reminder of what had happened made all the rest of the pain worthwhile.

He made it through the next thirty odd hours until it was time to meet Professor Reed in a semi official family capacity.  Too early for the shovel talk, probably, but Connor was still going to be making sure he was good enough for his baby brother.

He wondered if they were going to be coming out soon.  The school  _ was _ buzzing about "The doctor's companion" but if Hank was right, no one had any real clue who the companion was.  He wished, now, that he'd asked who the front runner was.

He pulled up to Nines' front door, noting Reed's car already there.  Nines had said he - Reed - had wanted to cook for them, with a nervous request that he not say anything if he didn't like it.  That alone told Connor how nervous Nines was. That made it easier for Connor to put his own swirling thoughts aside. "I know," he said gently.  Reed was in the kitchen while Nines had come to get the door. Connor reached to adjust his brother's tie and collar. Neither needed it but it seemed to settle them both.

"I think I want to take him home for Thanksgiving," Nines admitted while he poured each of them a glass of wine.  The brothers had been banned from the kitchen while Reed cooked so they settled in the living room.

"Oh! That's ... quite a big deal," Connor nodded, refusing to feel the stab of jealousy that threatened.  "Does mother know?"

"Not yet. Are you sure I can't persuade you to come home with us?"

His parents  _ and _ a couple in love? Connor shook his head.  "I'm better off staying away from them, Nines, you know that," he said and took a long swallow of his wine.

Nines looked like he wanted to say something, but Reed stepped into the living room then and the evening officially began.

Nines rose, moving to stand on Reed's left side, and laced their fingers.

Ignoring his twist of jealousy, Connor smiled and shook hands as proper introductions were made.

"You're such a dork," Gavin said with a laugh when Nines' voice went up in excitement when he added 'my boyfriend' to the introduction.

"Perhaps, but I'm your dork." Nines looked more relaxed and comfortable than Connor had ever seen him.

"You guys are so cute it's disgusting," Connor said with a genuine grin.  It hurt, it really did that he couldn't share his own ... situation with Nines.  But this felt nice. His brother was happy. Really happy, and Connor couldn't be happier for him.

"Okay!" Gavin said with a chuckle, rubbing his hands together.  "Dinner's on the table, I hope you guys like it!"

In a way, Gavin's decidedly un-ivory-tower-like manners reminded Connor of Hank.  Then again, virtually everything reminded Connor of Hank right now.

Dinner was chicken parmesan with pasta and homemade garlic bread.  Connor mostly behaved himself when it came to grilling Gavin. It was clear enough that he was as besotted with Nines as Nines was with him.  They weren't overly affectionate, not handsy and in each other's space the way he and Hank were.

But Connor could see it in Nines.  The way his face softened, how he was less fussy about things.  The gentle, verbal teasing. Not that thinly veiled meanness that he saw in some people.   

"How did you wind up a history professor?" Connor asked as they ate.

"I liked stories.  When I was a kid, I was reading all the time.  My grandfather pointed out that almost everything I liked was very historical, even the science fiction.  He gave me my first real history book when I was eleven. I still have it - well, he has it." Gavin shot Nines a fond smile.

"What he's not mentioning is that it was almost entirely a book of firsthand accounts of major conflicts throughout history.  Including one written by his grandfather. There were also quite a few notes in the margin, most from his grandfather, and quite a few from him.  It's long out of print or I'd consider assigning it to one of my classes as an example of collected writing and personal accounts. No one does diaries anymore."

"That doesn't mean they aren't leaving accounts of their lives," Connor pointed out smiling at Gavin's 'there you see?' gesture at Nines.  

"But most of that's public, and people know it."

"Nines, baby," He reached over and gently set one hand on top of Nines' head then lifted it off and put the other hand on before lifting it off.  "Okay, now you've got your historian hat on. What's the biggest value old diaries and journals have today from a purely historical standpoint?"

Nines had been gently smiling all the while and then nodded.  "Alright, from a day to day perspective, modern blogs do have historical interest.    There won't be any third spice or Punt fiascos from this period in history."

"Okay," Connor said with a laugh "I know the deal with Punt, what's this third spice?"

For a brief second, both men launched into an enthused story, then they laughed.  Nines finally nodded at Gavin "I'm the reason he knows about Punt, you get to explain the spices."

Connor listened as Gavin detailed one of the mysteries of victorian cookery.  Condiment sets would consist of chiefly five things. Oil, vinigar, salt, and pepper.  No one knew what the fifth item was. No one thus far was known to have ever written it down for sure, anywhere.  It was probably mustard but that was largely speculation.

Watching Gavin, Connor easily saw what attracted Nines to him.   He had an intensity and excitement that Connor envied. They were a good match.

After dessert, Nines walked him to the door while Gavin cleaned up.  "I like him," Connor said quietly, giving his brother a hug. "I mean, you know, he hurts you, I know how to hide the body, and all that," he said with a grin "But I'll save the shovel talk for another time.  So go put his mind at ease, he's got the big brother stamp of approval."

"That means a lot to me, Connor," Nines said quietly.  "Are you sure there isn't anyone you'd like? I just ... You deserve to be this happy."

"I'm fine, really," Connor lied, putting on his best smile.  "I do my thing, that suits me."

"It just ... seems lonely." Nines sighed.  "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't push." He glanced back towards the kitchen.  "I love him," whispered and Connor had to swallow down tears thinking about how long it would be until he could say that about Hank.

"I know." Connor took a steadying breath.  "Now go make sure he knows that," he gave his brother a playful little push, then left before he said or did anything he might regret.

Connor took a meandering drive home, too wired to do anything else.  He almost turned onto the road that would eventually take him to Hank's.  Even to the point of signalling. Then he stopped himself at the last minute.  Down that way lay madness. When he pulled into the parking lot, he noticed Simon's car at Markus' house and smiled sadly.  He was very glad Markus had a boyfriend - he was as happy as Nines was. Connor was over the moon for both of them, but it just drove home the hopelessness of his own situation even more.

Once he got to bed, all Connor had to do was endure an endless string of days trying to get used to the ache again.  The only comfort was a cold one, knowing that Hank had the same ache.

+++++

Late October, and it was finally starting to feel like Fall.

While Hank wasn't exactly in need of a job fair, he was wandering through the one set up on the Wednesday before Halloween.  Partly to see what new jobs even existed, since his last job search was over thirty years ago.

He spied North talking animatedly with the woman tending an aeronautics booth, and given what he knew about his friend, it wasn't strictly about the job.  The woman did not seem to mind at all.

He spotted one of "his" kids approaching the very booth he'd been absently looking for.  "Brad!" He called, picking up his pace a little. "Don't listen to these guys, they're liars!"

"Hank Anderson, holy shit!" Ben stood, along with Chris Miller.  Back slapping hugs were exchanged.

"You're looking good!" Hank eyed his old friend.  And he was, Ben had always been a bit soft in the middle, and he still was but his face looked a bit slimmer and he stood a little taller.

"Yeah well ... married life has that effect."

"Mar-Oh! Shit," Hank recalled now.  An invitation had been one of the many, many ignored bits of mail during his drunk and recovery period.  "Congratulations, man! Sorry I missed it," he said sincerely.

"Hey, I'm just glad to see you're doing well.  You teaching here or something?"

"Actually I'm a fucking student if you can believe that.  Anyway, Chris, how's, little, uhm-" Shit he was getting old.

"Cindy's good.  She just turned three, and Toby's six months."

"Toby?! Jesus I'm behind.  We gotta get together, catch up or something." It might never happen, but it was really good to see his old friends, and it was very good to know he hadn't been forgotten.

"Jeff gave us this, in case we ran into you," Ben said, reaching into a box under the table and pulling out a manilla envelope.  "Any idea what it is?"

Hank knew exactly what it was, and he couldn't thank his buddy enough for coming through.  He'd called Jeff about two weeks ago on the subject of older - over thirty - recruits. This was his answer, and more than a letter.  The package was thick and hefty, which told Hank the general answer to his query was yes. "Yep," he stuck it into his bag. "Anyway, guys, this is Brad Towers, he's one of my study group kids.  Brad, this is Ben Collins and Chris Miller, I used to work with 'em back in the day."

"I gathered that much, nice to meet you guys."

"You know, Hank still holds the record for youngest Lieutenant-"

"And I'm out of here." Hank grinned, shaking his head.  "See you!" He shook Ben and Chris's hands and gave Brad a firm pat on the back.  Hearing too much about his old job still made him ache.

Hank didn't want to wait the hour drive to check out what Jeff sent for him, so he ducked into the library.  He gave the librarian there - SImon - a wave and then took himself to one of the semi private back tables.

On top was a hand-written note from Jeff.  Yes, older applicants were still welcome and in fact preferred, despite what recruitment officers were telling people.  And if the applicant in question had a crime related degree, the department might even fund part or all of their academy training.

Under that was a list of requirements and Hank mentally checked off each one.  Under optional but beneficial was a letter of recommendation from a current or retired officer who had left the department on good terms.  Next to it was a sticky note "You qualify" in Jeff's handwriting.

There was a sheet to be filled out by a doctor, and recalling both times Connor had been at his house, Hank knew damn well the man was fit as hell.  Next was a list of subjects he'd be expected to learn, and the student handbook, given to all potential recruits.

All Hank had to do was write the letter and hand it off to Connor.  The hand off would be easy enough, he had a letter drop in his office big enough to handle the package.

Hank set everything carefully back into the envelope and finally headed home.

That evening he began the latest reading assignment for English against his own better judgement.  He'd even taken the precaution of starting it at Kara's kitchen table, but the reading was too difficult.  The subject matter was too close to home.

Thankfully, The good doctor had hours on Thursday and Hank ducked into the office, taking the liberty of closing the door.

"I would prefer that stay open, Mr. Anderson," the Doctor said, but without the ice Hank would have expected.

"I understand, but I have a private matter to discuss and I'd rather not be overheard."

Doctor Mann gave a nod of understanding and sat back, making a 'go on' gesture.

"I'd like to request a different book," he held up the problem.  "I-" he took a breath. "I tried, Doctor, but I can't read about a man losing his son to cancer.  I lost mine in a car wreck a few years ago. He'd just turned six."

Doctor Mann nodded, sitting up and leaning forward on his desk.  "I understand. Well, I don't - I've never been there, I've never had children, but I very much take your point.  In fact one reason I assign that particular work for the section on grief writing is because, as you can imagine, I don't often - ever, in fact - have students to whom it could possibly apply personally, so it gives them some emotional distance."

Hank's shoulders sagged a little and he nodded.  "Yeah, no I get that. And it's not that it isn't well written - if it was shit writing I don't think it would have hit me so hard."

The doctor's lips quirked into a smle at Hank's swearing.  "Yes, I try not to be in the habit of assigning 'shit' writing.  You don't have to read the book, I'll e-mail you in a few days some suitable replacement books for you to choose from."

"I appreciate that," Hank said with a smile.  "Thanks. So," he tucked the book away. "You dressing up tomorrow?"

"I am.  And I will not be doing my usual - Edgar Allen Poe."

Hank chuckled.  "Why not? I mean you just need a little lip ferret and you're set."  Anyone that Connor loved as much as he added his brother had to be able to take a joke.

Doctor Mann did laugh at that, .  "I've been persuaded to embody a different writer this year."

Since he apparently wasn't naming names, Hank just nodded. "Well, can't wait to see who it is!" Hank stood and finally went to open the door.  "Thanks again."

+++++

 "So tomorrow's the big coming out?" Connor smiled at Nines across the table.

"It's been no secret that I've been seeing someone, and that it's a gentleman friend.  I hardly think it compares to coming out."

"Okay, so it's not like it's a debutante ball, but you're gonna be going in together, and you won't be cagy about it, that's what you said right?" Connor was so proud of his brother.  He knew that for all Gavin's gregorius manner in class, he tended to be a private person.

"And if anyone approaches you about the subject, you're permitted to confirm.  I understand we'll both be changing things up this year?" Nines said as he cleared away the dinner dishes.  "No longer going as an officer?"

"No, I've gone as a cop for twenty ears, I think it's time to switch it up." And it felt both too close, and farther away than ever.  Hank had left a package for him in his office, with two letters, a note, application forms and a handbook. One letter was a copy of a handwritten note from Hank's friend, captain Fowler.  the other was an official sounding endorsement of Professor Connor Mann as an applicant to the police academy. It had been written and signed by Lieutenant Hank Anderson, retired. The note itself was innocuous enough - 'Talked to an old friend about our conversation - HA' Given connor's interests and Hank's past it could easily be surmised that such a conversation had taken place in the months they'd known each other.

"Please tell me you're still dressing up, at least" Nines said as he set  a slice of warm apple pie a la mode in front of Connor and sat across from him with the same.

"I'm borrowing Elijah's Malcom Reynalds costume."

Nines blinked a moment, then laughed softly.  "That suits. I'll want to get pictures of you and Gavin, my cowboys," he said fondly.

Connor chuckled.  "Just you be careful I don't pit a sticky note on the back of your Oscar Wilde jacket that says 'save a horse." Connor took a bite of the pie and let out a surprised moan.  "Wow. Did you make this?"

"Gavin.  He offered to do the pies for Thanksgiving so he's been practicing."  

"It's amazing."

"I'll let him know."

After dessert, Connor did the dishes and headed home.

Halloween at Jericho University was by no means mandatory, and not all of the professors dressed up, but most did.  It was also generally understood that this was not a day during which to intensely get things done, especially when it fell on a Friday.

Connor had let it be known that everyone who turned up in a costume would get one point on their final grade.  He wouldn't dock you if you didn't but it gave the kids an incentive to unwind.

He was on his way to his classroom when he heard a sharp wolf whistle, and North saying "Hey, Captain Tightpants!"  Connor turned to see North approaching and grinned.

"Hey, lookin' good, android!" her costume was simple, just an LED circle on her temple and a jacket with some numbers sewn into it.  What made it a cut above was the fact that one hand and part of her face were painted a stark white, like the human skin had been turned off.

"Thanks! I gotta get to class but since I caught you I gotta ask ... Did I see what I think I saw earlier?"

"That depends on what you think you saw," he chuckled.  He liked North, she'd not been in any of his classes but she'd been in the robotics club since she started school here, and Connor was co-advisors with Chloe.

"Your brother and Reed, all lovey dovey?"

"I don't think 'lovey dovey' is how I would describe them, but they  _ are _ together, yes," he said with a chuckle.

"Fuck!" She was laughing as she said it.  "I owe Hank twenty bucks."

Connor tried not to grin too much - he wondered how that conversation had gone down, because he didn't think Hank would  _ deliberately _ hustle a fellow student. 

By the time he got to his first class, he could hear the buzzing whispers and chuckled.   Both teachers were well known and Nines' more cheery demeanor had been a topic of some note lately.  So it wasn't really surprising that as soon as class settled down, several hands shot up.

"Yes," he said in answer to the expected question. "They've been dating for some time, which I'm sure you know if you have any classes with my brother," he chuckled.  

Then he took a costume count, and as usual he made allowances.  Generally if someone was in regular clothes, he let them get way with 'costumes' like townie, functioning adult, and homicidal maniac (they look just like everyone else!) When one student quickly declared himself to be an immortal celestial being in disguise, he liked it enough to give two points.

Connor's second class almost required a pop quiz.  Again. The man was trying to kill him, he had to be.  Glasses were bad enough, but now he had a  _ kilt _ on.  Connor assumed - that is, hoped desperately, that Hank had something on under it, in defiance of Scottish tradition.

Mainly as an excuse to interact with him, when he took the costume count, he expressed doubt as to Hank's.  "I'm not sure just showing up in a kilt is enough of a costume, even when you've got the sporran and socks and everything." It was a full kilt as well, over the shoulder and all.

"Och, come noo, laddie!" Hank said in the worst Scottish accent Connor ever heard outside of Star Trek reruns.

"Okay, I'll give you a point for the costume if you promise to *never* do that again," Connor said.

"Alright, that's fair," Hank agreed with a laugh.  "Just be glad I didn't bring my bagpipes."

"I'm counting my blessings," Connor chuckled.  And he was, if Hank had brought them, Connor would be forced to imagine him playing them.  He was already distracted enough thinking about what was under the kilt.

After class, he had lunch with Nines and Gavin, discussing how their debut had gone.  Thankfully it had gone well, even if everyone was surprised at both Nines' suitor, and the fact that Gavin had been seeing  _ anyone _ .

After all the classes were over, including Markus' drawing class, most of the staff got together for a halloween party of their own.  A few awards were handed out - Nines got best historical figure for going as Oscar Wilde. the Kamskis won best couple, going as Pierre and Marie Curie.  Noteworthy because Eijah had gone as Marie, and Chloe as Pierre.

Markus had gone as Picasso, and he'd painted Simon's face in the fashion  _ of _ a Picasso.  They were jokingly annoyed that they didn't win best couple.

Amanda won best fictional character for a surprisingly accurate turn as Michonne from the old walking dead comic.  Aside from katana that Connor knew to be real, she had with her two "zombies" - stuffed dolls attached to chains. They were armless and jawless, and labeled Freud and Jung.

Connor wasn't much for drinking but he let himself get a little tipsy, he felt he'd earned it, seeing Hank in his kilt.  That reminded him! He glanced around the party and made his way over to Markus. "Sorry to steal him, Simon, I need to ask him something," he had managed not to slur his words.  

"You okay, Connor?" Markus asked once they were in a cozy little corner.

"MMhmm.  Just gotta ask something.  You saw Hank's costume?"

"Uh-huh, yeah I figured you'd have something to say about that.  Man looks good in a kilt."

"Did he-I mean, was there-" he gestured downwards.

"Did his luncheon meat come wrapped up, you mean?" Markus asked with is own slightly tipsy giggle.

"Yeah.  I mean, he got naked for you right? Your class?"

"He doesn't strip down right there.  He has a cubby and a screen. I didn't watch him."

Connor sighed.  "I could barely think all day.  Because I know what he looks like under there," he leaned forward, gently headbutting Markus's shoulder.

"Me too! I mean I don't have the same attachment, but it's a fine piece of work!" Marks wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulder.

"I knowwww," Connor whined.  Then he sighed and straightened up.  "I should get home." Even through his spiked-punch hazed brain, he knew if he wasn't careful, someone else would overhear about Hank and just the thought had him starting to sober up.

In the end, Markus and Simon and Connor staggered home together.  Specifically to Markus' place where Connor crashed on the couch.

+++++

"Wow, Hank!" Kara laughed when she saw the haul in Hank's car.  "Laying in winder provisions?"

Hank laughed. "No, I found out today that several of my kids aren't going home for Thanksgiving, and since you guys are going to Luther's parents, I'd be just kicking around with Sumo so-" he shrugged, then hefted a 20 lb turkey in either hand.

"So you decided to play den mother," Kara shook her head.  She grabbed the bags of bread and chips, handing them off to Alice before getting some more of the hefty ones herself.  "You've only got like half a dozen in your study group right?"

"Well, it's not just them, it's some of their friends and ... I told them to bring anyone who's not going," he sighed.  He was grinning, too, though. Aside from Kara, Luther and Alice, he hadn't felt like he had a family in a long, long time.  It was a really nice feeling to realize that family was getting a lot bigger.

"Oh, if I need to can I borrow your kitchen? I've only got the one oven," Hank asked as they continued to get everything into the house.  After the first load of bread, Alice was set in charge of keeping Sumo distracted.

"Okay but no wild parties," she said with a teasing wag of her finger.

"Yes mom." Hank gave her a peck on the cheek.

Once the groceries were unloaded, Hank drove the three of them to the airport.  A friend would be getting them home, since they arrived back on Monday and Hank would be in class.

He knew he might have gone overboard, but in his opinion, Thanksgiving was about family, and family was food.  He didn't have a patch on his grandmother, or even his dad, but he could hold his own in the kitchen. He spent Wednesday night doing as much prep as he could.  Potatoes were peeled, cut up and boiled, pasta was boiled and turned into macaroni salad.  

By the time Hank went to bed, it was Kara's fridge he had borrowed.  Since they were away for a while, she'd dutifly emptied it out of everything that might go bad and they'd been eating up leftovers the last few days.

He slept the sleep of the blissfully overworked.

Sumo woke him as usual, and he was more refreshed than he had any right to be.

He had a few texts, mostly confirming if Hank was really serious, and if it was okay if this or that friend came.  After replying personally to the ones that needed it, he finally sent a group text. [I got enough food to feed an army, bring anyone who isn't going home or doesn't have plans].  In response to one query, he added [Bring food if you want but don't feel you have to.]

He put one turkey in his oven, with the usual stuffing.  The other went into Kara's oven with no stuffing, since he knew a few of the kids had allergies and didn't want cross contamination.

The first carload arrived a few hours later.  By the second, Hank knew he didn't have enough seating in the house.  Thankfully college kids were quite happy to use the floor when they weren't in the kitchen or weren't one of the lucky ones on the furniture.

Sumo was, of course, a huge hit with everyone.

Finally the last car full of people pulled up.  Hank was in the kitchen, instructing James and Brad in the fine art of homemade mashed potatoes when he heard them piling in.

"Oh my god you must be Sumo!" came North's excited greeting.

Another voice he didn't recognize greeted a few others.  Then someone jokingly protested "Oh no, who brought a  _ teacher _ ?"

"Hank said anyone who wasn'g going home.  Professor Mann wasn't going home so I brought him." She poked her head into the kitchen.  "It's okay I brought Professor Mann right? He's cool!"

"If it''ll help," Hank heard Connor as he came to stand beside North "You can all call me Connor - but just for today."

Thankfully the conversation gave hank time to get himself under control and he was able to just grin in response.  "Hear that guys, not a teacher, just some poor townie North dragged here," he said, giving Connor a wink.

That seemed to settle things and Connor was soon in the kitchen, letting Hank order him around.

"You're an adult, can I trust you to keep them wrangled while I duck over and check on the turkey?" Hank asked Connor after basting the one here.

"I promise I'll hollar for you before we burn the house down," Connor said, and Hank was sure he could see an ache in his eyes when he smiled.

He did have to baste the turkey, but he also needed a few minutes alone.  More specifically, a few minutes without Connor.

Fuck! They'd been going so well.  After .. October. They'd slipped then, but Hank had put it down to grief.  They hadn't talked again, the only extracurricular contact they'd had was Hank delivering the application package to Connor's office.   He'd heard nothing back, but he hadn't expected to.

they were behaving, they were being 8good* and Hank had almost stoped aching about it.  And now this. Not just Connor, but having to pretend in such an intimate setting, that they were in no way intimate.  Damn North and her kindness.

"Fuck!" Hank swore, leaning against Kara's pristine marble countertop.

"You okay?" North asked from the back door, frowning at him.

"Yeah.  Yeah, I just ... back" he said, putting his hand to his back like an old man, doubting she bought it for a second.  "Everything okay over there?"

"Yeah! Prof-Connor said there's not nearly enough seating for everyone, and it was suggested that we just eat on the floor."

"That's actually a good idea.  Since you're here, we'll raid Kara's linen closet."

Kara, bless her heart, had what could rudely be called a fetish for pillows.

After he showed North the spare room where they were kept, they gathered an armful each and then North corralled a few others to get the rest.

Back at Hank's house, the living room was cleared.  The coffee table became a sideboard, the couch was put against the back wall of the kitchen, and the armchair was put beside the couch.

By the time everything had been moved, the turkey was done.  The one at Kara's house was fetched.

"I'll put Sumo in the bedroom," Connor offered and Hank watched him vanish down the hall, Sumo trailing happily after him.  

+++++

 "Come on, boy!" Connor smiled when Sumo padded right after him, even if it gave him a pang of worry.  He also forgot to ask which door was Hank's, and hoped it looked like he just got lucky when he opened it.  

The lingering scent of Hank and his room hit Connor and once he had Sumo inside he pulled the door closed and ducked across the hall to the bathroom.  He could all too easily remember the nights he'd spent in that rumpled bed. Leaning on the sink he got his breathing under control.

Connor had not planned to spend the holiday at Hank's place.  He'd been trying to walk off some nervous energy when a car pulled up near him and North asked if he was going somewhere for Thanksgiving.  Then she'd invited him, said a friend was having an open party and anyone who wasn't going home was welcome.

Knowing how far away Hank lived, it never occured to Connor that he'd make that offer.  Only after half an hour with no sign of getting off the highway did he think to ask where they were going.

Of course, by then it was too late.  There was no way to escape without putting everyone out, and raising a  _ lot _ of questions that Connor wasn't keen to answer.

So he'd sucked it up, and was just glad North had said Sumo's name so Connor wouldn't have to remember not to know it.  It was too crowded to feel intimate, which almost made it worse. because this was Hank's home, and Connor already had too many memories of it.

Thankfully, most of them were confined to the bedroom - which was off limits especially not that sumo was there and the kitchen.  Connor had managed to avoid the actual prep area except to deposit three pies. That had been the goal of his walk to begin with, Nines house to grab one of the pies Gavin had frozen in the chest freezer.

When he heard he was going to Thanksgiving, he decided to grab a few as an offering - and maybe an apology for dragging a teacher along.  It didn't really surprise him that a gang that gravitated around Hank would be cool with him. These kids obviously didn't ascribe to the 'old is gross' belief of some of their peers.

To excuse his long departure, and to help cool himself off, Connor splashed some water on his face and washed his hands.

When he emerged, most of the others were seated in a large loose circle around the room, with cushion seats and the wall or shelving as back rests.  The coffee table was in the middle, laden with platters and dishes, with a few more on the floor under it.

One of the kids handed Connor a handful of paper plates and some plastic cutlery.  "They saved you a spot," he pointed at the empty pillow next to Hank.

"Keeping all the old people in one spot?" Connor teased, laughing when they admitted as much.

"Hi," Hank said with a warm smile as Connor settled down.

"This seat taken?" Connor asked teasingly, doing his best to ignore hank's body heat and cologne.  

"It is now," Hank grinned, then handed Connor the platter of turkey cuts.  "I already told the others but this is the plain one, some of the kids have allergies.   The regular one that had stuffing and all that is ion a fancier plate."

Of course Hank would think of something like that.  "Thanks for the heads up," he took the plate and passed it right along.  He liked his turkey pumped with flavor. The rest of the meal was served out that way, bowls and platters being passed around the room and eventually returned to the coffee table.  

The conversations were interesting to listen to, and it felt like they forgot he was a professor, which is nice.  He couldn't help but grin when he heard some of them squeeing over how cute his brother and Gavin were. Since their 'coming out' at halloween, they'd only gotten closer.  They were never going to be the mushy sorts, but the jacket switches were happening a lot more often.

According to Nines it was because usually they talked so much through lunch and just grabbed the nearest coat in order to not be late to class.  He'd been blushing when he said it, though, so Connor thought perhaps talking wasn't what they were always doing.

Connor wasn't surprised, however, when that comment led to a question in his direction.  "I'm not very close with my parents," he said honestly. "I have plenty to do here over the holiday."

"Aww," said the girl next to Connor.  She tucked an arm around his, giving it, and him, a little shake.  "See, Mabel! It's not just kids who have crap parents. You're gonna be just fine, he is!" 

Connor laughed and let himself wrap an arm around her shoulder and give a squeeze.  "Thank you for that ringing endorsement," he smiled. If he himself was miserable with his life, he was comforted by the fact that no one knew that.

Conversation flowed away and the girl beside him turned her attention elsewhere and Connor let his arm drop.  Then he felt a shift next to him and turned to see Hank leaning in. "She and her mom don't get along," he whispered "she was talking earlier about how her parents think the world of  _ their _ parents so why couldn't she get along with her mom." Hank's voice was low and intimate and Connor was very glad for the plate in his lap.

"I appreciate the heads up," he whispered back, a little dazed at Hank's voice and cologne.  "It was very kind of you to do this for the kids," he added. They seemed to be in a little bubble of quiet but Connor made sure there was nothing untward to be overheard anyway.

"I know what it's like to not have family when you need it.  I miss him more today than I do at Christmas, so I hoped having a house full of people would make it easier."

"Is it helping?" Connor wanted to slide his hand over, take Hank's hand in his, hug him, anything to ease that slight change in his voice.  He recalled it all too well when Hank told him about Cole's death.

"It is," he said with a smile.

"What're you too canoodling about?" North called over to them with a laugh.

"Old people stuff!" Connor replied, giving her a playfully dismissive flick of his wrists.  "Nothing to interest you children," for that, Connor was pelted with balled up napkins.

After dinner was cleared away by a few of North's carfull who'd escaped the setting up, half a dozen pies were produced.  The three Connor had brought; apple, cherry, and pumpkin. There was another apple, a raspberry tart, and a pecan pie as well.  The second apple was still in its box from the store, the raspberry tart had been made by the girl next to Connor, and the pecan by Hank himself.  There was also a box of cookies, two dozen doughnuts, one store bought cheese platter and an embarrassingly large fruit salad.

Dessert was a long, mellow affair, and by popular request - since there were no longer heaping platters of meat around - Sumo was released.

He immediately padded over and flopped himself across Hank and Connor's laps.  

Connor worried for a few moments that someone would comment on his familiarity with Connor.  Then after being asked, Hank confirmed that sumo was 10 year old and getting on in years.

"So he just knows that's the old people corner!"

Connor was enjouing just siting and watching, feeling Hank's presense beside him, petting Sumo's flank.  It struck him like a lightning bolt, this could be his life. Hank, Sumo, a group of friends. He could easily imagine it.

Between the meal and the beers and cider, by the time it was time to go, a few of the kids were a bit tipsy.  There were enough left sober to drive, however. Connor was the soberest of his car, having only had one beer at the start of the evening.

Unfortunately, the car he was meant to drive back refused to start.  After a few pokes under the hood, it was declared hopeless.

"I can have my guy take a look at it tomorrow," Hank offered as the others piled out of the car.    "He owes me from back when I was still a cop."

"How're we getting home though?" Asked the guy that was helping north stay upright.  Or she was helping him. Neither was entirely succeeding.

Connor found himself the subject of  speculative look from Hank. "You guys can take my car.  I'm too tired to make the trip safely there and back, and there's not enough room anyway.  I'll go unlock the garage door." 

 It seemed like things were conspiring.  Driving Hank's car meant driving it back.  Or Hank coming to get it somehow.

Given his history it didn't surprise Connor in the least that Hank would lock his garage door.  He bet money he made sure the neighbor did, too. Hank pulled the car out and climbed out. the others began to pile in and Hank stood in front of Connor, not quite meeting his eyes as he worked a key off his key chain.  "I'll, uhm, I'll call you tomorrow, after I get the car in the shop. We'll figure out where to go from there," he said, handing the key over at last.

They were painfully careful not to touch, at least Connor was, and it felt like Hank was as well.  Sitting so close together all evening had been difficult. And now Connor had to drive home in Hank's car.

Connor just nodded. "Thanks for having me over," he finally said, then ducked away to climb behind the wheel.

The ride back was quiet, most of the passengers dozing in the back.  North was up front. "Do you think he's handsome?" she asked him quietly as they drove.

"Uhm, who?" He knew very well who but he didn't want to seem like he was thinking about Hank.

"Hank! I know he's old but he's not bad looking.  All over."

"Okay first of all, you're the gayest woman I know," he said, "And second, all over?" He knew there was no way he was supposed to know what Hank looked like.  Even if he reasonably knew he did nude modeling, that was a far cry from knowing what he looked like under his wacky shirts.

"Not for me!" She laughed, giving his arm a light swat.  "For you! And He does modeling for my drawing class. Nekkid!"

"North Eden!" Connor tried to act shocked.  "He's a *student* there's laws about that!"

"Pf! You guys are so cute together! And it's not like he's some pretty young thing."

"No, but he was a cop, I think he has strong opinions about people who break the law."

North sighed and was quiet for a moment.  "Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. Little too much cider.  Just ... he's so lonely. But he's such a sweetheart. I want to see him with someone, and you two seem to have a nice chemistry."

"Chemistry or not, it's off limits, North," he said gently but firmly.  Except he didn't have to be.

The rest of the ride was quiet and he deposited his passengers before going to his place.

On the drive, especially after North's comments, he'd been doing a lot of hard thinking.  He had made a few decisions that had been percolating in the back of his mind for a month now and everything finally settled into place in a way that felt real, and solid.

Connor sent his brother a text and went to take a shower. He felt more refreshed than usual when he stepped out.  Everything felt lighter now that he'd made up his mind.

When his phone rang, he picked it up. "Hey, Nines," he said as he opened the fridge, grabbing himself a bottled root beer, a rare treat.

"Connor, how's your day been?" Nines sounded just this side of tired and he wondered how bad their parents had been.

"Not ... bad, actually.  some of the students dragged me to a come one come all Thanksgiving shindig."

"That sounds like more fun than we've had." Now nines sounded tired.

"They weren't nice to Gavin were they?" Connor wasn't even angry about it, just tired.

"It was nothing they said or didn't say, but it was clear they ... are less than supportive of my relationship decisions. Mom commented privately that she felt I should be with someone more academically inclined.  Connor, I ... begin to understand viscerally why you haven't come back," he said quietly.

"Well, I, uhm-" he wished he had an old landline, he desperately wanted to be twirling a phone cord right now.  "I need to tell you something and it's just gonna make things worse when they find out."

"You can be assured of our discretion.  If you don't want Gavin to know, let me know and I'll go to the other room."

"No, he's fine, it's mother and father.  I'm quitting Jericho. At the end of this school year, I'm done with teaching."

The sigh on the other end was so deep and heavy that Connor worried for a moment he'd have to move Nines into the same emotional bin as his parents.  "Thank God! Maybe now you can go do something that makes you  **_happy_ ** !"

Of all the reactions he had anticipated, that had not been one of them.  The sheer relief in Nines' voice was palpable. "I'm-what?" 

"Connor, you're my brother, and I love you.  I've always looked up to you. And I've always known you weren't cut out for academia like I am.  I kept- I wanted to tell you, but whenever I hinted, it - I worried you'd think i was like mom and dad, just someone else telling you what to do with your life.  So I mostly just left it alone and tried to be there for you."

Connor wasn't crying.  He  _ wasn't _ .  The sniffles were from something else.  The same thing was making his eyes water.  "Thank you," he finally said after swallowing hard a few times.  "That-thank you, that means a lot." He took a shaky breath. "I stole a few of Gavin's pies for Thanksgiving, tell him I'm sorry," he chuckled.  "Assure him, though, that they were very well received - and no one knows the bad-ass history professor can bake like an angel."

"He'll appreciate you protecting his macho reputation.  Although he claims dating a fussy English teacher has-" he turned away from the phone for a second "How did you put it, darling?"

Connor could hear Gavin's answer. "Shot my manly reputation all to hell!" and he was laughing as he said it.

His eyes itching again, Connor swallowed and took a steadying breath.  "You guys are adorable."

"I just wish you had someone to be disgustingly happy with."

How much to say? If he told Nines, it would have to be face to face, but since this seemed to be a time for honesty, he could only evade just so far.  "That's ... complicated. Someday I'll tell you everything, I promise."

"I look forward to it."  Then he sighed. "Mother wants us downstairs for dessert.  It was good talking to you!"

"You too! Love you, and give Gavin a hug for me." They both knew why - more than ever- his parents were left out of his affections.

After Connor hung up, he checked a few bits of information and began to draft his resignation letter.  He felt remarkably calm when he sent it, feeling almost like he could breathe for the first time in years, and he hadn't realized he hadn't been doing so.

Finally he pulled out the envelope Hank had left in his office so many weeks ago.  Smiling, he fingered the note Hank had written. Then he set it aside and began to fill out his application to the police academy.

+++++

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry y'all had to wait for the ending but there it is! It's meant to be slightly ambiguous but, like of *course* they get together at the end of the school year!!
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> There's A Lot to this so I'll be posting in chapters over the next few days! Let me know what you think, and if I need to add any tags you feel are missing!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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